


Heart of Stone

by KatDancer



Series: Heart of Stone Universe (Risa Aeducan's Tale) [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Awakenings, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Adventure, Angst and Humor, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Flashbacks, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Torture, POV First Person, POV Multiple, POV Third Person Omniscient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 19:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 100
Words: 94,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatDancer/pseuds/KatDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Risa Aeducan, former princess of Orzammar, has a job to do. And she'll use whatever means are necessary to get it done. When she spared Loghain in the name of honor and conscripted him, she found she'd lost - and gained - more than she imagined possible. </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heart of Stone

**Author's Note:**

> This story shifts back and forth between Risa's past (the two years on the road defeating the Blight) and the present (the point at which Loghain became a Grey Warden).
> 
> Bioware, as always, owns the characters and settting.
> 
> Comments are always welcomed.

Risa Aeducan, four foot five, dark haired, dark eyed, with a fine nose that was cute and perky and not much like the broad noses of most of her Dwarven kin, looked across the crowded and chaotic Landsmeet chamber at Alistair. His face was dark with an unfamiliar scowl, his hazel eyes narrowed, cold and hard. His sandy hair was messy, no doubt the result of his running his hands through it nervously as she'd dueled Ferelden's regent, greatest living hero, and the General of its army – and the man for whom he blamed the death of his friend and surrogate father, Duncan.

She glanced at Loghain. The aquiline-nosed, dark-haired warrior was still before her on one knee, finally at her level, his head falling forward and his wind braids hanging before him. He was breathing hard, his cold grey-blue eyes fixed on her. There was nothing in his gaze but resignation – should she decide to kill him or to spare him, he would accept her decision.

She looked back at Alistair and could see the corded muscles of his neck, and how his gauntlets were curled into tight fists, his whole body vibrating with tension - and knew what _he_ wanted of her. She knew that he wanted Loghain slain before him. She heard the crowd too, howling for Loghain's death on the blue and gold carpet before them.

Risa was more of a pragmatist than Alistair, though.

She knew that Riordan, the haggard-looking senior Warden who'd crossed into Ferelden from Jader, would not have suggested making Loghain a Warden unless there were compelling reasons.

As a Dwarva commander, she also knew that generals were not to be discarded like yesterday's trash, especially in times of war.

She knew that as a one of the Dwarva, her time as Alistair's lover had run out. As king, he would have to father at least one heir; she, as a Grey Warden, could not bear that child. Dwarva were never very fertile to begin with given their constant exposure to both lyrium and darkspawn taint; the addition taint taken into her body during the Joining no doubt would end any children they started. And regardless of her having been a princess in her own right, these banns, so full of jealousy and racism, would never allow her to marry Alistair – which was honestly her only wish once they defeated the Blight. She could only be his illicit lover . She was a noble – not some casteless noble hunter - and here on the surface being his mistress was viewed a shameful thing, a disgrace. It would not even be seen as an elevation of status on the surface as it would back in Orzammar.

And Alistair – dear, sweet, naïve man that he was – he would not see that their relationship was of necessity over, not until someone like that **bastard** Eamon spelled it out for him. Better he hated her now than humiliated her later.

* * *

Oh, he'd hated her. She'd thought the words he'd spewed at the Landsmeet chamber had been horrible. What he'd said to her in the private chamber they'd been shown to….

"Be king," she'd said stonily, refusing to let the tears fall after he called her every vicious name he could think of. "You don't belong in battle, risking your life to kill the archdemon. You have responsibilities, and so do I."

"Of all people," he hissed, "I thought for one second… for one actual moment that you _loved_ me… but you just used me, just like everyone else has used me my entire life! And the one thing I _needed_ you to do, you took from me!"

"Because it would be _wrong_. Because it would be _dishonorable_ to kill a vanquished and surrendering foe." She was immovable about this.

**"You** ** _have_** **no honor –** ** _your own people exiled you!"_** He had shouted it at her so loudly that she had no doubt that it had been heard loud and clear all the way back to the Landsmeet chamber.

That was a blow she never saw coming, an attack she'd honestly never thought he would have used against her. And when she met his eyes, knowing that she couldn't hide how much that had pained her, she saw only anger and… triumph.

"Live well, Your Majesty," she'd said quietly. "Try to remember the honorable, just, compassionate man you used to be when you sit on that throne, or it will not hold you long." She turned her back wearily and headed for the door.

"Where the Fade do you think _you're_ going?!" he yelled.

She looked back at him, her face stone again.

"To _die_ , oh human King," she said bitterly. "That _was_ always the plan, was it not?"

And for a moment, she saw how that had taken his breath away – how utterly horrified and hurt and lost he looked, before the regal mask dropped back over his features.

She couldn't even feel satisfaction that she'd hurt him with that.

* * *

She went directly across the hall to the chamber in which Riordan was administering the Joining to Loghain. Risa stood behind the general as he sipped from the chalice – when he collapsed, she caught him and struggled to lower him fairly gently to the ground.

Riordan came over, slipped a hand between the gorget and against Loghain's neck. "He lives," he said simply after a few moments.

"Wonderful." She looked up at Riordan, then walked out of the room.

When she returned a few minutes later, she had a waterskin and a chunk of ham she'd stuffed into a roll, and Loghain was just starting to stir.

She sat cross-legged next to him on the floor. When the former teyrn opened his eyes and levered himself up painfully, she passed him the waterskin without comment. He took it, giving her a measuring look.

"Give it here," she grunted and opening the skin, squeezed it hard enough to spray a jet of water into her own mouth and swallowed it, then passed it back. "You're a warden now. I'm not going to poison you."

He took it then, swished water in his mouth, then swallowed. "Please don't give me that twaddle about being my sister now."

Risa's eyes hardenerd. "Fine. Get yourself cleaned up and fed. We're going to have a big day tomorrow." She met his gaze steadily. "And no, I'm _not_ your sister. What I _am_ is your commanding officer."

_Good. Now the both of them hate me._

_Makes things a lot easier._


	2. Her Name Meant Laughter

Her name meant laughter. It was an odd name for a dwarf, to be sure, but when she'd been born, the last of Endrin Aeducan's children, both he and her mother had been delighted by the beautiful little scrap of a girl who laughed and who wrapped hearts around her little finger just with a knowing glance of those merry eyes.  
  
She had been a happy child, running through the palace delighting even the dourest deshyrs. Endrin often allowed her to sit in the throne room and draw happily, and in this way she had learned something of the way politics worked in Orzammar.  
  
Risa had shining black eyes, glossy raven hair, and a tiny perky nose that looked out of place next to the larger, broader noses of the rest of her kith and kin. She had often trailed behind her elder brother, Trian, worshipping the ground he walked on and unable to understand why when she was no longer a toddler he was firmer and less merry with her. The middle brother, Bhelen, was her joy and often her partner in crime. No matter what they'd found themselves in, a smile from Risa went a long way to reducing the well-deserved punishments they earned.  
  
Her desire to be like her brothers had led to her practicing with sword and shield, dagger and bow from the time she could hold them, and Endrin had been proud to see her take on older fighters and hold her own – and then to begin winning against them, gradually.  
  
When she'd grown old enough to actually join the army, he'd presented her with armor, weapons, and her second – Gorim. Gorim's father had served Endrin nearly forever; his son would serve Risa as well. There was some worry about Risa and Gorim becoming… romantically involved (a scandal for her; he was warrior caste, but no noble!) and a couple of beatings, methodically given by Trian and his cousins when they had been caught a little too close to one another, seemed to have discouraged the young dwarf, at least as far as making their affair physical.  
  
Risa had distinguished herself in many battles against the darkspawn, and when her commanding officer had been killed, she'd rallied her fellows and driven the darkspawn back. After years of bringing nothing but honor to the name Aeducan, her father had given her command of her own battalion.  
  
Trian, as the elder brother, had become increasingly cold with her, and Risa excused it – she still worshipped her elder brother (and future king). But there were rumblings that the cold, unbending Trian was a worry to the deshyr of the assembly and that the princess was actually much more popular and likely to be the next ruler. Her brother Bhelan warned her of Trian's treachery against her; she steadfastly maintained her belief in her eldest brother.  
  
She had been given a special mission by her father to bring glory to the house – she brought Gorim Saelac of course, and was given two unfamiliar scouts to accomplish the mission.  
  
She had been horrified to come across her elder brother's corpse at the end of her mission, and was kneeling over the body trying to rouse him when her middle brother brought her father and others to the scene, accusing her of the murder. In a flash, she knew what he'd done – and when her two new scouts –Bhelen's stooges – accused her of the crime, she was exiled to the Deep Roads.  
  
Gorim was to be exiled to the surface. He'd told her that there were Grey Wardens in the Deep Roads, and that she might be able to reach them.  
  
Since she was nothing and nobody now, her name stricken from the memories, she had done what she never dared before… the jailor had let Gorim into her cell and turned his back for an hour, and she and Gorim had finally expressed their love for each other … in her filthy cell, frantic, awkward, and painful, and only partly hidden from view.  
  
What did her reputation matter now?  
  
Her father's trusted adviser, Lord Pyral Harrowmont, had met her just before she was turned out into the Deep Roads. He only asked her one thing, looking her straight in those black eyes that had always seemed to laugh until now, eyes that were now guarded.  
  
"What does it matter what I say now," she asked quietly. "I am without honor. I am without clan. I am sent to a traitor's death. These things were accomplished without so much as a trial, without so much as my being afforded the chance to speak in my defense." She closed her eyes, for a moment, and took a ragged breath. "If the king, my father, believes this to be so and has condemned me for the crime, there's no point in protesting."  
  
"Risa," Harrowmont said, his voice breaking, "I have known you since you were swaddled. Please. For my sake… for your father's sake…"  
  
Risa looked at him steadily. "I did not kill Trian. I never would have done. I defended him to Bhelen when Bhelen told me Trian would have me killed." She looked away. "Trian was sharp with me this morning – no doubt he was told I meant to take his throne. And now Bhelan's an only child." She nodded, looking down at her bare feet, smoothing her ragged prison clothes, then looked back up at Harrowmont, her mouth set in a grim line, her jaw tensing as she faced the huge double doors. She would die soon enough. No point delaying.  
  
Harrowmont put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it, and nodded to the single guard that was present. The guard put a bundle into Harrowmont's hands and walked away, and Harrowmont handed it to Risa.  
  
She stepped through the doors, and they clanged together behind her with finality. She took a moment to look in the bundle and nearly sobbed with relief.  
  
A sharp dagger, balanced perfectly for her hand.  
  
A battered but serviceable wooden shield.  
  
A chance. Not much of one, but a chance to survive.  
  
 _____________________________________________________  
  
"My Lady Aeducan!? What are you doing here – alone – in the Deep Roads?"  
  
The tall, dark Warden – Duncan, she believed his name was – turned in shock when she'd killed the darkspawn leaping at his blind side. She looked a sight – covered in blood, in mismatched armor. Barefoot, her feet bleeding. Rusted chainmail gauntlets, a tad too small. Dented splintmail. All bits of armor she had stolen from the dead in her headlong flight.  
  
Panting, she leaned against a column. "Please," she said raggedly, "It's just Risa now."  



	3. Meanwhile, Back at Camp

"How could you?" Wynne snapped at Risa. The dwarf had seen kinder expressions on the faces of ogres, to be honest. "I knew you would break his heart, Warden, but to have betrayed him…"

Risa had had all she could stand of the dirty looks, the whispers, the outright disrespect and disapproval from the rest of them, but most of all from Wynne. She knew the mage was protective of Alistair, but she had had QUITE enough.

"Yes, I betrayed him," she spat back with such venom that the enchanter stepped back, "I placed him on the throne of Ferelden - such a betrayal. I refused to dishonor myself and him with the cold-blooded murder of a foe, formerly a hero of this realm, who had surrendered to me. I refused to begin Therin's reign with bloody revenge, which could well have turned his subjects against him. I have bound his enemy to the Grey Wardens and to me, where his skills will be put to good use in the defense of Ferelden, and most of all I have prevented Theirin from being anywhere near that damned archdemon so he won't be killed!" Risa stepped right up and jabbed her index finger in Wynne's face, her black eyes blazing with fury. "Don't you EVER talk to me about how I betrayed him when I did all this to save his life and save his country."

By the time Risa was finished shouting, she was panting to force herself to calm down and drive the red tint from the edges of her vision. She turned sharply on her heel to see the rest of the party staring at her from around the camp… Leliana paused mid-stir on some kind of stew. Sten impassive with his arms across his chest. Morrigan with a decidedly amused and admiring look on her face. Oghren nodding approvingly. Zevran watching her sharply, stepping out of her way as she passed. Shale rumbling, "Well done. As if It isn't loud and demanding enough, you need to pick fights with It?" And Loghain, looking as if he'd rather be roasted alive than be here at all.

"Dog! Heel!" she snapped as she stormed past everyone and headed for the edge of camp. The mabari fell in beside her, pacing with her.

Silence fell in the camp as she disappeared into the bushes, and Loghain said to no one in particular, " I was just thinking how we'd been spending much too much time on the Blight and not enough on casting aspersions on each other."

* * *

 

Risa sat at the river's edge, staring into the darkness as Dog whined and nudged her with his snout. She petted the Mabari absently, nearly missing the slight rustle of leaves underfoot that told her she wasn't alone. She reached for a dagger and was ready to throw when she saw it was Loghain standing a dozen or so yards away.

Risa grunted and resheathed the dagger, and Loghain nodded.

"What do you need, Loghain," she asked, her tone tightly controlled. Ancestors, she needed more like she needed a third breast!

"They will never accept that you did what was necessary," he said. He stood at parade rest, and watched her reaction.

Risa gazed back at him, then shrugged. "No. They won't."

Loghain looked faintly amused, then nodded to her before heading back to camp. "Commander."


	4. Chain of Command

Risa was grateful that among the first humans she met had been Duncan, some Grey Wardens, Ash Warriors, and Teyrn Loghain, because otherwise should would have thought them as a race to be incredibly stupid and uselessly insuboordinate. Never had she seen such absolute lack of discipline and pride in oneself. Soldiers wandering aimlessly about the camp? Others hitting on their fellows, even when their opposite number was clearly not encouraging it? ARGUING with orders?

And then there was Alistair. Handsome, for a human, with those honey-brown eyes and the red-gold artfully mussed hair. And his sense of humor… there was something sad about the man, and the way in which he hid behind his jokes. He really seemed out of his depth though – when they'd gone into the wilds to retrieve the documents and darkspawn blood, he'd deferred to her immediately when he, in fact, was the senior officer here. She didn't mind – she'd commanded larger groups and in more desperate fights – but it wasn't proper. If he were to be a leader, he needed to lead.

She'd prowled the entire camp now, sharpening her rogue skills by opening and poking her nose into everywhere she clearly was not supposed to. It was old habit; in order to stay a jump ahead of the politics in Orzammar, one must know one's enemies intimately.

Of course, that hadn't stopped Bhelan from blindsiding her, she'd admitted to herself bitterly. Little had she known as she insisted to him that she could trust Trian because Trian was her brother that Bhelen even then was planning to teach her she could not trust even family. That was a learning experience to be sure, and a costly one: she had lost her family, her lover, her position, her home – everything that made her herself. Now she was a surfacer, no better than a brand, and she knew that someday, she would find a way to repay Bhelan for that kindness.

She got up from the fire, hardly paying attention to Jory or Daveth. Daveth was like a tomcat, prowling around looking for a willing pussy. Fortunately, his tastes did not run to Dwarves, or she'd have had to deck him already. Jory was an egotist, fool and coward, and not worth her time. Alistair… well, he was somewhat promising. A word or two on the eve of battle sometimes was all that was necessary to steady the nerves.

She stood, and walked over to where Alistair was sitting looking into the fire. "Mind if I join you?"

Alistair looked up, surprised, and smiled. "Sure, make yourself comfortable."

She sat beside him, nodded as if deciding before speaking. "May I be frank with you?"

"You may, or Alrik or even Jordan, but I think I'd much rather you were Risa," he joked.

She nodded, absorbing this, and looked left and right. Daveth was lounging on a tree trunk laid on its side as a bench and clearly listening to every word. She reached over, touched Alistair's shoulder, and said quietly, "Walk with me."

Daveth leered as they went past. "Like it a bit forceful, do you…?"

Risa didn't dignify it with even a comment. She simply kicked the trunk, rolling it and spilling him to the ground as they passed. "HEY!"

She led Alistair over to the broken bridge to the Tower of Ishal, and leaned against the wall, looking down over the chasm.

"Why do you defer to me," she asked quietly. "You are the senior warden, yet you allowed me to lead us through the wilds. I know you do not fear battle; you rushed groups of darkspawn and killed them with great skill and efficiency."

He gave her a grin, and said lightly, "Well, you're clearly an accomplished commander; you had Jory and Daveth organized into a pretty deadly unit in no time. And you're amazing at finding stuff – I watched you reading those Chasind trail signs like it was nothing, and you got us a pretty good set of extra weapons and…"

"I didn't ask about my abilities as a leader," she said firmly. "I asked why you do not lead."

He frowned, and looked a bit sullen, as if he didn't want to get into this. "Yes, Revered Mother," he grumbled.

"Look," she said patiently, "units need a clear chain of command. You're in charge, but I'm giving orders. That's confusing to your men and hesitation to follow orders because one is not sure whose supercede the others could be deadly."

He laughed it off, as he did everything he found uncomfortable. "Lead? Me? No no no…. me leading is bad – we end up going in circles, and somehow we all lose our pants…."

She snorted, choking back a chuckle. "Speak for yourself, long shanks. Though in Daveth's case it's not so much LOSING as tearing off in hopes of impressing the ladies." She froze suddenly, frowning slightly.

"What's wrong?" He picked up on her shift in mood immediately, and Ancestors above, he did not kneel to her level as if she were a child, nor loom – he just leaned his elbows against the wall.

She took a breath, exhaled slowly, considering. "I have not found much to laugh about of late," she said gravely, looking up at him.

He smiled warmly. "Well. We'll have to do something about that."


	5. Stone Cold

Risa walked back to camp far more calmly than she had left it, Dog trotting back a few feet ahead of her, clearly feeling happier that his mistress was no longer upset. She noticed the silence that fell over the camp when she walked into it, and mentally taking hold of herself, walked over to the fire to pick up a bowl of stew.

Leliana handed it to her, and brushed her hand – maybe a little too long to be accidental. Risa looked up and saw the Bard nod at her slightly.

Risa scanned the camp quickly and saw that Loghain did not have a bowl yet. She quickly filled another one, then walked over to their newest companion.

"My thanks," he said gruffly. "So… I suppose we must hash out between us what you want of me ?"

"Eat first." She sat on a log. "The rest can wait."

He looked around the camp as well, and noted the looks being shot their way. "Perhaps you should choose a more… palatable dinner companion."

Risa scowled, shoveling the stew into her mouth with great deliberation. "We have business to discuss after the meal. Unless you desire solitude…?"

"That would be best," he said, removing himself and his dinner from her immediate vicinity.

Risa turned her attention inward. She knew she was a pariah amongst her own – an exile who hadn't the decency to die in the Deep Roads. To be a pariah among those she had gathered… that she had dared to think of as friends… that hurt in a way she did not expect.

She tossed a bit of nug to Dog.

* * *

 

"Do you ever find it hard to be an Aeducan?" Gorim has asked her a lifetime ago.

"Sometimes," she'd admitted, looking at the dwarven merchant who'd fainted simply because she asked about his wares.

Gorim's voice had dropped to a sexy rumble, though he still stood far enough away for propriety to be observed. "Don't worry…. I see you for yourself, my lady."

* * *

 

Risa's heart clenched hard, and she tried not to remember that afternoon…

They were walking through the market in Denerim, and she heard an unmistakable voice: "Dwarven crafts! Fine Dwarven crafts, straight from Orzammar! You won't find better!"

Risa's head had snapped around, and she made a beeline toward that voice. She would know that voice anywhere…

"Dwarven crafts! Fine Dw…." And then he was rendered speechless as her companions looked on in confusion.

"Gorim!"

"M-my Lady…."

Risa stepped forward and threw her arms around Gorim, hugging him tightly, her face buried in the crook between head and shoulder. She breathed his scent and shuddered as she felt her body responding to him as if it were only yesterday they were torn apart.

"You're alive!" he said, and gently pulled away from her. "I can't tell you how… overjoyed I am to see you…"

"Gorim…. What is it?" she asked. She could feel how stiff and uncomfortable he was, even as relief and joy radiated from him.

He looked up at her companions, who were regarding the two with frank curiousity, and sighed. "My Lady, perhaps we should have a drink…?" He looked up at Alistair, whose expression was curious and faintly annoyed – and then the others.

Risa nodded. "Leliana, I'll meet you back here in half an hour," she said, taking Gorim's arm as they headed to the tavern.

* * *

 

Risa had come back from the Gnawed Noble walking fast, a beautifully wrought shield now strapped to her back, her head down – so fast she'd walked right past Leliana and Alistair as if they weren't there.

For all she seemed to notice them, they weren't.

"Whoa, whoa, hey," Alistair said, trotting to catch up to her. "Risa, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, continuing toward Denerim's gates.

He was _married_. He'd told her to come to Denerim, that he'd wait for her, that he loved her, and he was _married_. **_Married_**. He may have been in Denerim, but she'd been the one waiting for him. And he was soon to be a father, too.

 _ **Married**_.  And when she'd stammered in disbelief and asked, pathetically, weakly, "But what about _us_?" his excuse had been that they'd both known it couldn't last -- she was a princess and he was only a warrior.  And yet now they were equals, surfacers, no better than brands, and he'd betrayed her....

Married.

She clenched her jaw on the screams she longed to loose, the tears and crying she so dearly wished she could unleash, but to what end? It would not change anything. He was still married, and not to her.

And her father, dead. No doubt due to Bhelan's machinations. And the shield of House Aeducan given to Gorim to give to her, Endrin Aeducan's last gift to his last child. She'd read the note later; she couldn't bear to see it now.

One thing she swore.

_Bhelan. Would. Pay._


	6. I'm Nobdy -- Who are You?

Daveth and Jory were dead.

She had never much liked Daveth and his roving eye, his wandering hands, his attempt to mount any and every female he came across. But he had taken the cup bravely, knowing it might kill him, after scolding that fool of a human knight and explaining just WHY this sacrifice was needful.

And then he was dead, strangling and clawing at his own throat.

Jory had drawn steel, backed away into a corner. He had whined about there being no glory in this, and attacked Duncan. He was dead before three blows had been exchanged, and Risa had stepped back from the pool of blood as it threatened to stain her stolen boots.

And then the chalice was in her hands, and Duncan was looking at her steadily, telling her that she was called upon to make this sacrifice.

 _What does it matter, really_ , she thought. _I am Risa Nobody, of Nowhere. Kinslayer. Exile. I am dead already, and far from the Stone._

She took up the chalice and drank deeply of it, meeting Alistair's eyes over the rim of the cup. _If I am to die, let it be swift and let me not disgrace myself with screams…_

The pain doubled her over, and she clenched her teeth shut tight against the screams. There were thousands - hundreds of thousands of them, all dinning against her ears until she thought she'd go mad, and then….

Reptilian face. Reptilian thoughts. _**JOIN US!**_

Everything went white in a blinding flash of pain…. then, nothing.

* * *

 

"It is finished. Welcome."

Risa opened her eyes. She felt wretched - she needed to vomit, desperately, and her head was pounding. She was soaked with clammy, acrid fear-sweat. She fought to slow her breathing and looked around wildly, her senses screaming danger.

And then she met Alistair's eyes. Worried. Warm. Pitying, even, maybe. She didn't care for that but that look - it was a lifeline, and she grabbed at it. He leaned forward and extended a hand, helped pull her upright as Duncan explained they were needed immediately at a meeting.

And Risa's stomach had rebelled then. A few swift steps took her to the edge of the ruin, and she'd lunged to the top of the wall, overlooking the gorge, and was noisily sick over it. She'd just caught her breath when the next spasm took her, and she finished emptying her stomach.

She heard a waterskin sloshing by her ear, and reached back and took it gratefully, swishing out her mouth and spitting it over the side.

When she turned back, Alistair was there, and she realized it was not pity, it was empathy she was seeing.

"Maybe…. not quite so big a gulp next time? You didn't need to finish yours and Jory's both." He gave her a lopsided grin, and she actually chuckled.

"You think I'm drinking that nug's piss again? Think again."

Alistair affected a look of horror. "And how, dear lady, do you know what nug's piss tastes like?"

"Find me a nug and you can compare yourself." She softened it with a grin of her own.

He chuckled, and rehooked the skin to his belt. "Come… when his Majesty wants to see you, it's best to go along with him."

Risa's expression had gone cold and flat in an instant, and she started toward the ramp. "Tell me about this King," she said quietly.

"Well, um, his father was Maric, who with Teyrn Loghain ended the Orlesian occupation," Alistair said haltingly. "He married the teyrn's daughter after he ascended the throne."

"His father… he died of age, then?"

"No. His ship was lost… and after two years of searching, Cailan was made king. That was five years ago."

"No siblings to confuse the matter or contend with?"

Alistair's answer was a beat or two slow in coming. "None."

Risa nodded sharply. " _Good_ ," she said bitterly. "The man has no idea how fortunate he is," she said, not noticing that Alistair had stopped dead, looking at her stiff back striding towards the council of war.


	7. An Accord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Risa and Loghain come to terms.

Risa sat at the edge of the camp, fully as far away from her companions as Morrigan slept. Since the Landsmeet, she had felt something she had not felt since she had been sent into the Deep Roads with only a dagger and shield.

She felt truly _alone_. And she looked back on the months of cameraderie and friendship as a pointless cruelty: making her believe she had built new friendships, new alliances…

Taken a new love.

Perhaps Morrigan, and her brother, and all the other greedy, grasping bastards she'd met in the last two years had the right of it: _power_. _Survival_. Those were the only things worth considering.

Love and friendship were tenuous, and ripped away just as one had relaxed and depended on them most, leaving one weak.

She should have learned that in Orzammar. She should have in Denerim, when Gorim explained how he'd run out, married a surfacer, and impregnated her rather than wait for Risa as he'd sworn. And now, she'd had the lesson driven home all the more painfully because in one fell swoop she'd lost Alistair AND the rest of her comrades, and all… for doing the right thing.

He'd been right. Swooping _was_ bad.

She fondled Dog's ears gently, and wondered when her last friend - the mabari - would have a go at her and leave her as well. No doubt it would be at some point where her death were assured. In some bitter irony, she assumed, it would be about thirty seconds after the archdemon lay dead and the world lay rejoicing and singing her praises.

Regardless, she had a job to do, and she had better get to it. She got up, dusting off her leggings the best she could, and stalked back into camp, in search of her burden, her curse.

* * *

 

Loghain crouched at the edge of the fire, feeding logs into it to keep it from burning out. If he noticed his petite commander striding up to him, he ignored her.

What he could _not_ ignore was the cold nose that tagged his ear, or the hot tongue that followed with an experimental lick. He was surprised at the mabari's demonstration, and turned to it, scratching its head just where the skull met the spine, and was rewarded with a sigh of doggy bliss.

"You, ser, should be choosier of the company you keep," he muttered, and then caught how the dwarf had stiffened at the comment. If she were pained, he could not tell from her face: she might have been one of the Paragon statues, carved from granite.

"Ah, I should have guessed. Your hound is never far from your side. What is this fine fellow's name?"

"Dog."

He looked over at the Dwarf. "And if he were female, would you have called him Bitch?"

"There's already one of that name here, so I am given to understand."

Loghain looked at Risa for the first time - _really_ looked. And what he saw was strength, duty, determination, and right now, her black eyes were focused entirely on him.

"Be that as it may," he replied carelessly. "We must settle things between us, one way or the other, or neither of us will be able to get any work done. So. What is it to be?"

"We need to work together." She gestured to him that she wished to walk as they talked; their companions (such as they were) did not need to hear this conversation.

He hesitated only a moment before falling into step beside her. "And is that a punishment for _me_ , or for _you_ , I wonder?"

She looked at him sharply, and he could see her considering her next words. "Neither. Though I suspect it will feel as such to both of us, for a variety of reasons." She led him back to the riverside where he'd noted her pariah status the night before.

"Yes. I've noticed the self-righteous stench of superiority in camp and can't help but think it's because you spared me." His sharp blue eyes locked with her deep black ones. "Why did you, by the way? You had to know it would enrage the bastard and his retinue."

She looked at Loghain wearily. "Murdering a man who has honorably surrendered is wrong," she said firmly, "no matter what one's personal feelings are. You are a skilled tactician as well. I cannot commit murder - and a foolhardy one, to boot - simply because it is _the most expedient thing_."

Ah, that comment scored a palpable hit.  Loghain smiled as he let his own barb fly.  "And yet it seems clear you have lost quite a bit in this."

"My personal losses and gains are of no import," she said, and he might actually have believed her had he not seen her eyes. "The only thing that remains for me is to end this Blight."

"What would you have of me, Warden? I can't imagine you trust me."

Her eyes narrowed. "End this with me. Redeem your name, if you can. But no matter what else happens - the archdemon _must_ fall, and I fear I cannot do it alone."

He nodded. "And so saving me for this purpose _just_ so happens to put your former lover clear of the possibility of death."

Risa met his eyes steadily. "I did not know that he would storm off like a petulant child and refuse his duty in the end, but I cannot say I am displeased with the result."

"Honestly spoken." Loghain nodded. "Very well. Whatever you may think of me personally, Ferelden has always been my only goal: her survival and her independence. I will follow you, Warden, and I will fight at your side. You have my word, whatever you may think of that."

Risa nodded. "Best head back to camp… whenever… whenever Theirin and I had private discussions the rest of the camp assumed…"

Loghain looked faintly amused. "I'm old enough to be your father, Warden."

"Well, apparently there is no limit to what I'll stoop to," she said gravely, though he could see a slight easing of the tension around her eyes and forehead.

"And so it's that easy… allies, with no threats of retribution should I betray you?"

Risa shrugged, heading back to the camp. "What need? You know the rest of them are watching you and waiting for you to ease their consciences about falling on you and tearing you to pieces. If that does not give you pause, what could any threat of _mine_ do?"


	8. Family Ties

Risa walked back from her meeting with Duncan, Cailan, the Revered Mother, Uldred and Loghain still not quite sure why it was that she had been asked to the meeting. She was a brand new Grey Warden, and nobody important. And though the job she had been given was not terribly exciting, she knew that it was critical.

Alistair was less impressed, especially when he was told he was to join her in lighting a beacon at the top of the tower. Yes, it was not prestigious, but at least in Orzammar, when a soldier was told "this is your mission," you did it without argument.

He did, however, make a joke about his disappointment, saying that if the king told him next to dance the Remigold in a dress, he'd draw the line.

"I don't know," Risa said, amazed that she spoke up. "I'd like to see that myself."

"Well…. For you, I'd do it. But only if it were a PRETTY dress."

Risa laughed even as Duncan sighed at their silliness. She suspected he was not as exasperated as he tried to appear… it seemed to her that Alistair was a man in need of a friend or foil… and that he also was what she needed – some levity to lighten her deeply brooding nature.

* * *

 

The slog through the Tower of Ishal was a disaster. It had been overrun with darkspawn, and she and Alistair had had to slaughter their way up four flights. Her rogue skills disarmed any number of traps and opened plenty of chests, garnering them more weapons, armor, and health poultices, and they'd needed every one of them. Then they had burst out onto the top floor of the tower…

Risa had skidded to a stop, eyes wide, and to his credit, Alistair stopped as well without bumping her.

There, before them, was an Ogre, easily fifteen feet tall, feeding on the previous inhabitants of the top floor. Even as they glanced at one another trying to form a plan, the Ogre turned and roared, spraying spittle everywhere, then charged.

Risa let Alistair draw its attention while she raced around behind the nightmare, and while it was trying to get at the warrior, Risa raced by and hamstrung the Ogre. It dropped to its knees with a screech of mingled rage and pain, even as Alistair slammed his shield directly into the thing's face.

Risa leaped as it was rocked back, and landed on its broad back, scrabbling at its shoulder. The Ogre roared and reached back to dislodge her, but it was too late – she rammed her sword into its temple, and with a strangled screech and a loosing of bowels and bladder, the thing fell over dead.

Risa did not hesitate. She launched herself at the beacon fire, and tossed a flaming flask into the pile. The beacon blazed to life.

Alistair looked over the side. "Come on…. Come on….. flank them!"

Risa started over, and looked over the side with horror. Loghain's troops were…. retreating?

"What… where are they…?"

Alistair's eyes widened, and they both whirled to the sound of the door flying off the hinges.

A volley of arrows, and Risa instinctively threw herself between Alistair and them. Three slammed into her, and she fell back with a shriek of pain. She heard Alistair yell her name and collapse across her…. And the sound of gigantic wings beating above them.

Then everything went dark.

* * *

 

"SHARDS!"

Risa clenched her fists and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to exhale her frustration with it. The thrice-damned tent kept collapsing on her no matter what she did, and she was ready to throw it onto the fire and burn it.

"May I be of service?"

She spun, hammer in hand, to see Alistair standing there. He took a step back and raised his hands in surrender. "Whoa, whoa, easy there…"

"Argh! Shelters of fabric - stupid idea! Give me dependable stone any day!" she snapped, humiliated that he's seen her failure enough to pity her and offer aid.

"It takes a little practice - and it's not easy for one person to do himself." Alistair nodded toward the collapsed tent with a questioning look, and Risa sighed.

He slipped inside, and suddenly one end of the tent was supported. Risa lifted the fabric and peeked in.

Alistair was twisting one pole down into the dirt. Risa slipped in, righted the other one, and did the same, getting at least her center roofline fixed.

They both crept out of the tent, and Alistair pulled each line tight and let her drive the stakes in. In no time, the tent was solidly up, and Risa put her pack and bedroll inside.

"Thank you," she said quietly, not able to meet his eyes. "I wasn't… very gracious when you offered help."

He smiled. "That's all right. I know something about frustration, I assure you."

Risa began to tend to the fire, unsure of what else to say and somehow unaccountably shy, when Alistair cleared his throat. She looked up, questioningly.

"So…. May I ask a question?"

"You just did." She looked up and gave him a quirky smile.

"Ah. May I ascertain whether you would allow me to ask you some questions regarding your opinions?"

Her eyes twinkled with amusement, a little, and she said, "Continue."

He took a deep breath, seeming unusually serious, then said quietly, "Before... the battle..."

The amusement in her eyes died immediately.

"...right as we were going to the tactical planning session - you said Cailan was lucky not to have siblings. Quite... vehemently. I was wondering... why?"

She frowned, looking at Alistair with a guarded and measuring look. "Why do you care?"

He seemed a little taken aback by that, started to say something, then clearly decided against it. He thought of something else, and she could see him almost turning over his argument, examining it, and discarding it. Finally, he simply blurted, "I... I've wanted a family all my life, and it just seemed... well, odd, to declare him better off without one."

"Clearly he'd have done better without a father-in-law," she said bitterly. She remembered her own family. She remembered all too clearly the moment Loghain's army had retreated and left the rest of the men to die horribly... the scars from the darkspawn who'd nearly killed Alistair and her on the top of the tower - physical and mental - would likely be with her for life.

"Well but, he wasn't a blood relation, was he? He, he..."

"Alistair." Risa looked across their campsite, watching Morrigan pitching her tent far, far away. "How much did Duncan actually tell you about me?"

He thought about it. "He said you were a commander in the army. And that you were fantastically talented, which by the way, you are..."

"Did he mention my family at all?"

Alistair shook his head. "No. When we come to the Wardens, we give up our family and titl-" He looked at her more closely. "You... are you some sort of a noble? I mean, WERE you...?"

Risa dusted her hands off, stood straight, and said, "Well, then... perhaps an introduction is in order."

"Risa, don't be silly..."

"I am Risa of no clan, of no place," she said solemnly, " _Kinslayer_. _Exile_. My name struck from the Memory. But before it had been, I had another name: the Lady Risa Aeducan, Princess of Orzammar, youngest child of King Endrin Aeducan, sister to Prince Trian Aeducan, the next dwarf slated to be King. And sister to Bhelan Aeducan... now to be next King of Orzammar."

Alistair looked shocked. "You... _killed_ your _brother_?"

Risa's eyes snapped with anger for a moment, then she looked utterly defeated. "Condemned and cast out to the Deep Roads to die fighting darkspawn with only a dagger and a battered shield."

Alistair remembered her coming to Ostagar... barefoot. "Your armor..."

Risa's cheeks went red. "Stolen from the dead as I fought my way through the darkspawn. I met Duncan in the Deep Roads and joined the Grey Wardens on the spot." She looked down, her lips a tight line, her eyes shiny with tears. "I can never return to Orzammar."

Alistair looked at her a moment longer, then shook his head hard, his hand slashing down definitively. " _No_. You did not... you _could not_ murder your brother. That I know. Did he attack you?"

She shook her head. "I found him, dead. And as I tried to make sense of it, Bhelan arrived with my father and half the Assembly. It looked... bad. It went completely to shit when two scouts my father assigned me that day said I had been friendly long enough to get within striking distance, then killed my brother."

Alistair frowned. "And... as youngest, what would you gain from his death? Certainly not the throne!"

"Bhelan eliminated my eldest brother for his crown... and me because he feared either that I loved Trian too much to let it lie, or because he didn't want me to serve him the same way and become queen."

"You would _never_ have..."

"Not then, no."

Alistair's eyebrow climbed toward his hairline.

"Trian's blood cries out for vengeance." Risa sighed. "Unfortunately, it's extremely unlikely Bhelen'll face justice."

Alistair winced. "So you said Cailan was lucky..."

"Because he didn't have any who could stab him in the back and steal what's his. Or so I thought."

Alistair was quiet a long while. Then he asked, "Surely not all families are like that, though..."

"In my admittedly limited experience... they _are_."


	9. You Can't Go Home Again

Risa froze as they stepped out of the pass through the Frostback Mountains, and the rest of the party had walked on nearly thirty yards before Alistair realized that their leader was not with them.

Waving the others on, he walked back to her. "Risa?"

"I can't," she said, her voice strangled, and he realized that she'd gone paler than ever (a trick for someone raised below ground) and that she was shaking like a leaf. "I _can't_."

"Deep breaths," he said gently, and she realized she was panting for breath.

Leliana came back. "Alistair? Is everything all right back here?"

"We're fine," he said. "This thin air… I need to catch my breath. We'll meet you at the gates."

Risa looked at him, startled that he had lied so smoothly to Leliana. She wasn't sure whether to feel angry that he lied, angry that he knew she was weak, or grateful he'd protected her from discovery.

"Big athletic man like you?" Leliana scoffed.

"Big athletic man who's never been up in the mountains, yes," he said firmly, shooing her off.

It took a few minutes before Risa was able to take a breath and say shakily, "I can't return to Orzammar."

"Risa," he said quietly, "I can't do this alone."

She looked up at him, and realized he had extended his hand to her.

"You don't understand," she said quietly. "I am NOBODY. And if I go back, they'll execute me."

"You," he said, taking her by the shoulders, "are Risa of the Grey Wardens. You are the strongest person I have ever known. You're smart, you're caring, and you're a brilliant tactician. We both know you're the driving force behind our little crew and I need you to help me with this." He scowled. "And they'll have to go through me, Sten, and the rest of us to execute you…. Except Morrigan. She might just pitch you at them and say, "Kill the dwarf, don't hurt me!"

Risa looked down. "Alistair," she breathed, and her shoulders slumped. He really didn't know what he was asking of her… he couldn't.

It had to be done. And she was the only one who could do it.

She drew a shuddering breath, and rubbed the backs of her wrists across her eyes, then stood tall, shoulders back, eyes nearly glassy with unshed tears. Then she looked up at him, biting her lip.

"I'm afraid," she said in a very small, still voice, hating herself, and hating that she had to admit it.

" _You?_ " He affected shock, though she could see in his eyes that he understood. "Slayer of Ogres and high dragons? Gelder of Genlocks! Hunter of Hurlocks! Master of Mabari! I don't believe it!"

She had to chuckle, and took his hand, squeezing it. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet," he murmured, smiling back at her. "Did I mention I'm afraid of the dark?"


	10. Unpleasant Truths

Risa walked the perimeter of the camp, Dog at her side. The surface world had its benefits, but she missed the warmth of Orzammar, with its bright lava flows illuminating and keeping warm the Dwarva. Here, at night particularly, she could never quite get warm enough.

"My L—I mean, Warden."

Risa stopped and looked at Oghren. "Oghren, what can I do for you?"

"Fer what it's worth… I totally get why you spared Loghain. And… you were right."

She looked at him a long moment, and then nodded.

Oghren held out his flask to her, and she accepted, taking a long swallow from it. It was definitely not the quality she was used to, but it was good tasting an Orzammar brew again. She passed the flask back to him, and didn't comment when he fell into step beside her.

"The rest of them will come around," he said.

Risa felt her stomach twist, and she ground her teeth on her instinctive answer, which was, "I don't care if they do," a lie she was having trouble maintaining even to herself. What she did say was, "I cannot spend time worrying about anything other than ending the Blight. I need everyone ready to fight… I can expect nothing more than that."

"Warden…"

Risa turned on him, exasperated. "Are you a warrior or a nug-humping poetess?" she growled. "Will you write ballads about the tragic life of the dwarf who lost everything, and drowned her sorrows and herself in a river, exiled forever from Orzammar?" She didn't even know where this venom was coming from… Oghren was extending the olive branch, so to speak, and she was horrified at what she was saying to him.

Oghren's eyes narrowed. "If I _did_ it'd be a drinking song about a stone cold bitch who no longer understood what it meant to be a _person_ as well as a commander."

Risa saw red, and fought to shove down the rage she felt tearing at her. "Maybe I'd have a thing or two to sing about honor and duty, and people throwing it aside 'cos they were upset with how I conduct my personal life!"

"Copulating with your second in command was a poor decision." The Qunari broke in suddenly.

Risa turned and glared at the grey giant. There wasn't anything she could say to that: he was right. Morrigan had said as much all the way back in Lothering nearly two years ago. "Is there something you needed?" she asked instead.

"Your watch is over. I am here to relieve you."

Risa nodded and walked off.

* * *

 

Risa crawled into her tent, tied the flaps shut against the wind – and truth be told, against her companions, and threw herself into her bedroll with a vengeance.

She lay, quietly, unable to sleep. This was a huge mess, and she could see no way out of it save one.

_Kill the Archdemon._

Perhaps then she could leave Ferelden, leave the stink of dogs and hypocrisy behind. And if she could not be useful far off in Weisshaupft, perhaps she could drown herself in the sea, throw herself from a cliff, maybe go down to the Deep Roads by herself and slit her own throat after the darkspawn overpowered her.

There wasn't much keeping her here anymore, to be honest. _Duty_. That had never failed her. _Responsibility_. That had been hers from the cradle.

 _Honor_.

The NAME of it had been ripped from her unfairly, and it hurt to know that people she loved believed her to be dishonorable. But she knew she had always acted with honor. Duncan had seen that in her, no matter what others said. Duncan…

Risa bit her fist until she tasted blood, rocking against the sobs she refused to voice. How odd… it wasn't her family… it wasn't even the loss of her lover… it was the unconditional acceptance and respect Duncan had shown her so long ago that had undone her.

She heard Dog whining at the flap of her tent; would not risk being seen this way. Weak. Pitiable. She remained on her bedroll, willing herself to still, willing her tears remain unshed.

* * *

 

The next day, marching to Redcliffe, Loghain drifted beside her.

"You need proper sleep," he said quietly.

She didn't bother to look his way. "I'll sleep when I'm dead."

His hand snaked out and he bent and grabbed her by the upper arm, and as she turned toward him, rage turning the edges of her vision a bloody red, he shook her. "Your ability to _think_ and _lead_ are affected by your exhaustion, Warden," he snarled, "and in the state you are in, you are a danger not _only_ to yourself but to those who follow and _depend_ upon you."

She shook him off with a vicious shake, and jumped back, drawing her daggers. "Get your hands off me," she hissed.

"Then you will LISTEN to me," he said angrily. "You can find new and amusing ways to self-destruct AFTER you've killed the archdemon, and not a moment before. I will NOT see Ferelden destroyed because its last, best hope decides to go pout in a corner!"

Risa's eyes narrowed, and she stormed off down the road at a pace she must have found punishing.

" _That_ went well."

Loghain turned. It was, of course, the damned assassin.

"Yes, so many things have, of late," he grated.


	11. Heroes

Risa Aeducan walked out of Riordan's bedroom, Loghain at her heels as they headed down the hallway. She was still reeling from the news.

 _One of them had to die._ That thought pounded at her with every step, and she wondered if somehow she'd known, back at the Landsmeet, when she'd thrown that comment back in Alistair's face when he demanded to know where she was going – "To _die_ , oh Human King. Wasn't that _always_ the plan?" A prophetic statement after all. A tiny corner of her heart thanked the Ancestors that Alistair – despite the vitriol and hatred of their parting – would not have to face his death so soon.

_"Risa."_

She realized as she was about to step into the adjacent hallway that Loghain had spoken – had called her by name. _Twice_. She looked up at him in wonder. It had always been _Commander_. Or if he were particularly annoyed, _Dwarf_.

 _How alike we really are,_ she thought as she studied the human's worn, craggy face. _He might almost have been of the Stone himself. He may be human and I Dwarva, but – similar coloring, same sense of duty, same sense of honor – though no one thinks we have any._

"Risa, listen to me." He guided her, with his hand in the small of her back, to his room and shut the door.

"I'm listening."

"If Riordan fails, Risa, you _must_ let me strike the final blow on the Archdemon." Loghain looked at his commander very seriously. "I'm an old man, and aside from Anora, I can think of no one who'd truly miss me. You're young, and you have your entire life ahead of you. You must let me do this last thing for you."

Risa looked up, shaking her head. "I can't ask that of you."

"You _haven't_ asked, I've _told_ you I'm going to do this."

Risa looked away. "What, exactly, is there that you think I need to live for? You at least have a daughter… will be a grandfather someday. You are a hero. I am nothing. Nobody. Of no house. I have no family, I have no home." She closed her eyes. "Duty. Responsibility. And it all ends with the death of that monster."

"Don't be stupid," he growled. "You have…"

" _Friends?_ " She laughed humorlessly. "They follow only because they know Ferelden is finished if we don't do this." She ran her fingers through her short, dark hair. " _Love_?" Her laugh was short and bitter. "Yes. Well. I'm sure the Ancestors are punishing me for _something_. How careless I must otherwise be to lose two lovers in three years."

"You always deserved better than Maric's bastard."

"Did I? there seemed a sort of symmetry to it – the cast-off bastard prince and the exiled princess." She sighed. "The truth is there's nothing more I want than to finish this, Loghain. And then _I_ want to end."

Loghain looked down at Risa and knew she was telling him the truth – had laid her soul bare. He could scarcely believe the pain in her voice, in her eyes, as she told him she wanted to die. He had seen her angry, determined, stubborn, bloody stupid – but this… this was a perversion of what should be.

"So you're giving up?" he sneered, trying to get a reaction from her.

"No. I'm – what was it you said? – self-destructing AFTER I kill the archdemon, and not a moment before."

He grabbed her by both shoulders, shook her, and for once she didn't break free. She didn't threaten. She didn't injure him, even slightly. She just let herself be shaken like a doll.

"You listen to _me_ , Risa Aeducan," he growled, "You dragged me into this madness, made me into this monstrous, tainted thing… don't you _DARE_ think you're leaving me to pick up the pieces!"

"Isn't that what you've _always_ done?" she said quietly. "Picked up the pieces for Maric… for Cailin…" She looked at him. "This time you'll do it for Anora… and she and everyone else will see you for the hero you are." She exhaled a shuddering breath. "Daughters may always by six with pigtails and skinned knees… but their fathers are always their _heroes_. Anora needs her hero if she's going to do this – marry Alistair and make Ferelden strong…"

"You really think Maric's bastard will let me anywhere near Anora?"

Risa looked up. "He'll never forgive you, and I wouldn't look for any presents for Satinalia, but after longing for a family of his own his whole life, I doubt he could deny her seeing you." She closed her eyes again, and… a tear. A single tear, the first he'd ever seen her shed in all these months when he knew she was mired in misery, trembled on her lashes. "His name is Alistair… and whatever the circumstances of his birth… he is a _good_ man."

Loghain stared at her, stunned. She'd given up. Not even half his age, and simply resigned to die. Probably thought everyone would be the happier for it. Was probably even nearly completely right.

He would not allow it.

He bent swiftly, and kissed her – a hard, punishing kiss that made her eyes fly open in surprise and then he released her, leaving her breathless and shaking in reaction as he stalked to his own bedroom door, flung it open, and stormed away.

"I am NOT a good man."


	12. The Last Word

Risa Aeducan was not often at a loss for words but – when Loghain had grabbed her, shaken her, KISSED her… it has stunned her. And now that her brain had finally turned over, she didn't know whether to be angry, confused, amused or just plain resigned.

She'd never seen him look angrier – not even when they were trying to kill each other at the Landsmeet. And what in the Void was that kiss, anyway? She couldn't fathom it. Yes, they had come to a working agreement of sorts, but that was all – and as he had pointed out to her before, he was old enough to be her father.

Not that he was not put together well for a human – and a man of a certain era – but… no! Just NO. Stone take her, NO.

* * *

 

Loghain stormed out of the bedroom that Eamon's staff had assigned him, furious with Risa. The little fool was set on dying when she'd barely begun to live. It was a terrible waste – she was one of the very few people he considered to be worth any respect. She marshaled her armies, she gave her orders, and she got results. He knew that despite a certain aloofness and… dare he think… stony façade, the young dwarf was a superb leader who genuinely cared for the people around her and for her troops.

The strain of losing them, one by one, was apparently not something she had learned to deal with.

He'd long since learned to spar, to study his beloved maps and plan for a Ferelden whose borders overtook those of Orlais, to drink, and to pace and think it out. It had been twenty years or more since he'd done, but there was something to be said for rutting when all else failed.

He certainly wasn't going to suggest drink the night before their ultimate battle and sacrifice. And he was not about to volunteer to be a replacement for Maric's bastard, either. Let her look to the elf for that, if she decided to ease her pain.

As he marched past Risa's room, the swamp witch, as the golem called her, slid out. She smirked at Loghain and purred, "Trouble sleeping?"

"No more than usual. You realize our commander is set on dying tomorrow, don't you?"

An unreadable look passed over Morrigan's face, and – wait. Something in those unnatural yellow eyes looked…. Pained. Sad? The witch actually cared for someone in this world other than herself?

"We cannot allow that," she said decisively, looking down the hallway.

"No," Loghain agreed. "Were it up to me I would toss the fool into a dungeon and throw away the key until that oversized lizard was dead. But we need all the boots on the ground we can get."

Morrigan gave him a speculative look. "You… _care_ for her as well?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" he snapped. "My daughter's older than she."

Morrigan continued to stare, a half-smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"I respect her as a fellow soldier." That was closer to the truth. "And… as a person. She has sacrificed much for the good of the surface world – when frankly, we've treated the dwarves with mistrust and contempt, and they are the experts on darkspawn."

"She is remarkable." Morrigan nodded. "And what if I told you there was a way to spare her?"

He snorted. "Drugging her and locking her in the dungeon sounds like a good plan…"

"Until we take into account that she slaughtered half the staff of your prison at Fort Drakon in her escape…" Morrigan smiled. "Did you propose to have her end the _other_ half and _then_ die at the mercy of the archdemon?"

"It might delay her long enough for me to make the kill."

"And what would you do? Abandon your daughter and your future grandchildren? Leave our very depressed leader with yet another death on her conscience for which she holds herself personally responsible?"

Loghain crossed his arms across his chest. "Spit it out, woman. Stop circling around your point like a fox at a henhouse!"

Morrigan smiled. It was rather like fishing. Choose your lure… flick it out in front of the granddaddy of all trouts in the pond… tease him until he grabbed the bait and set the hook…

"I have found the loop in your hole…."

* * *

 

Risa looked up at Sten, tears in her eyes, as he lowered the unconscious Loghain to the ground with surprising gentleness. "He will recover, _Kadan_."

She nodded. "It has been an honor, Sten," she said, bowing formally to the qunari. "Tell him… and Alistair... tell them I'm _sorry_."

He nodded, and did not move a muscle as she turned and grabbed a two-handed sword from a dead Knight.

As she charged toward the mortally wounded Archdemon, she saw Alistair, Zevran, Dog and Wynne burst from the doors to the roof. Before anyone could do anything stupid and stop her, she leapt onto the dragon's neck.

Dog utterly screamed, a high pitched shriek of terror and sorrow, as he started his own charge. He would NOT see another master die! WOULD NOT!

And the last thing Risa saw as she drove the sword down into the dying dragon's brain were Alistair's eyes – and they were full of pain.

A moment later, so was she.

She clung to the sword, screaming in anguish as she twisted it, trying to make sure the archdemon was slain. The pain – indescribable. She hoped that when Leliana wrote about this battle she turned those shrieks of horror and pain into war crys.

And then there was an explosion, and an end to pan, and everything went dark.


	13. The Afterlife?

The afterlife was warm and wet and smelled of Mabari breath.

Risa hurt _everywhere_. She supposed she had not gone to the Stone – she was perched at the top of a silly human tower. But it didn't seem fair to be stuck in some… some human afterlife that smelled of Mabari breath.

"Thank the Maker…" Familiar voice. Not quite right, though…. Not warm and gentle.

She tried to open her eyes; couldn't. Thank the _Maker_? Then the _Ancestors_ ….?

"Haven't you done _enough_ damage?" That growl was familiar… if only she could think clearly…

" _Parshaara!_ I will do it – get back!"

Pain… Risa screamed, and everything winked out.

* * *

 

"Risa… _Risa_ …"

Soft touch. Cool. Damp. Soothing.

"Risa, you must wake up. Wake up now, child."

So much easier to drift…

"If you don't open your eyes _this instant_ young lady…"

"Ancestors, Wynne, I had a mother." Risa croaked. But she opened her eyes.

So bright. So much pain. She looked up at the face – which seemed to have smoothed from its perpetually pinched look and seemed gentle, caring again. "Wynne… so sorry."

"For what, dear?" Wynne was gently bathing her face with a washcloth.

"Getting you killed." Risa's eyes fluttered. "Did we get it? Did we end the blight?"

"You did it." Another voice. Alistair?

She turned her head, saw him. Sitting far away, in a chair in the corner.

 _Chair_?

She sat up, horrified, and even though the pain and nausea threatened to overtake her, she started to yank at the bedclothes, trying to get up. "Oh no. Oh _noohnoohno_."

"Calm yourself," Wynne said, trying to press her back into the blankets.

" _The Archdemon!_ " Risa cried. "If I'm here and not dead – _it's alive!_ "

"It's dead, Risa." That was Alistair again. He helped Wynne to press her back down into the mattress. "You need to calm down. It's all right now."

Risa shook her head frantically. "No…. Riordan… he told us that for the Archdemon to die, one of _us_ had to sacrifice our lives. _You_ weren't there… _Riordan_ fell from the Archdemon's back and….. I saw him. He died before he killed the Archdemon. And if _I_ didn't do it….."

She trailed off unhappily. She looked around the room, saw one person missing.

 _Loghain_.

But she'd dealt the killing blow – she was CERTAIN of it…

"The Archdemon is dead. The remains of the horde is fleeing underground." Alistair stood up. "We have you to thank for it, Lady Aeducan."

Risa fell back against the pillows. _Of course._ After she fell unconscious, Loghain must have killed it. She felt her eyes burning, and looked at Alistair miserably. For his part, he looked at her from a few feet away… distant.

So. He still… though it seemed at least that Wynne didn't hate her anymore.

She looked at Wynne pleadingly. "The rest of our group…"

"Leliana, Zevran, Sten, Oghren, they're all fine. Morrigan… she disappeared after the battle, but seemed fine when I saw her. Riordan… well, you saw for yourself." Wynne said gently.

Alistair nodded to her, and reached over to squeeze her hand. "I'm glad you survived. Whatever else… well. Ferelden owes you a debt that can't be repaid."

Risa closed her eyes, fighting the tears. "I'm glad to have helped… your Majesty." She opened them, looked at him, hated herself for being weak, for wanting him to just be… Alistair again.

His eyes softened a little, but she could read in them that they were well and truly over.

"You have had – and will have – our best healers until you're well again." He moved toward the door. "The Queen sends her regards and her wishes for a speedy recovery."

Risa nodded and turned her face toward the window. She heard the door click quietly shut.

Wynne was there again, a soothing cool cloth on her forehead. "I'm sorry, dear," she said quietly.

Risa was quiet for minutes, then sighed. "Why am I even here? I should be dead, Wynne."

Wynne's face grew slightly tense. "But you're not, and that's the important thing."

Risa shook her head. "Dog…?"

Wynne smiled. "I believe he'll be back as soon as he's taken care of… nature's call. He's hardly left your side."

Risa smiled faintly at that. "I thought he was attacking the Archdemon too…"

"He never got the chance… the archdemon died and it – and you – exploded, flinging him back."

Risa nodded sadly. "And so."

Wynne frowned. "What dear?"

Risa closed her eyes. "I'm tired, Wynne."

So he had done it. He'd died in her place. Risa's chest seized for a moment, and then she found herself crying. The world was safe, Alistair didn't love her and had or would marry Anora, Gorim was married as well… she had no family, no House, no place in the world.

* * *

 

She opened her eyes again. There was a candle burning beside her in the dark room.

She liked it. It almost reminded her of h—of Orzammar.

"Funny story," said a gruff voice from the darkness. "Let me know if you've heard it. A man gets blindsided by a Qunari and poisoned by a Dwarf Rogue…"

Risa sat up fast… too fast… and the world spun nauseatingly.


	14. Unanswered Questions

Risa sat up fast, and very nearly lost whatever her last meal had been, her eyes wide and trying to see into the shadows.

Her second-in-command made it easier for her, and sat forward in the chair near her bed, coming into the light. The craggy planes of his face were thrown into sharp relief, shadows in the gaunt cheeks, under the eyes…

"Well?"

She mastered the feeling of nausea just barely, then slumped back into bed, resignation in her features. "Loghain."

"Commander, you sound almost relieved to see me," he rumbled, "as if you didn't expect that I had lived. Given how much trouble you went to making sure that I would, I am surprised you doubted."

"I am. Very relieved." She looked at him, gathering her strength. "But if you and I both are alive, then the archdemon is as well." She laid back, closed her eyes, sighed. "The Ancestors must hate me, to keep me from – what was it you said? Dying decently instead of coming back again and again, no matter what's thrown at me."

He watched her in silence. He fully understood the bitterness with which she was speaking – had he not said the self-same things some four months previously? Had he too not wanted to lay down his burdens and be at peace?

Should he tell her, he wondered, about the ritual he and Morrigan had performed in the dark of night to save her stubborn little neck? Or should he simply let her assume she yet had work to do in this life?

How ironic, that he had thought he would not spend the night before the battle rutting, and yet he had. Not for his own gratification, but to spare her life.

He was amazed at how tiny she seemed now, how frail. In camp she had never seemed so; in camp, issuing orders, she seemed larger than life.

"How do you do it," she asked quietly.

"Do what?"

She looked at him searchingly. "How do you go on?"

He scoffed, "And why, Warden, are you asking me? It seems you've been 'going on' for about two years now before your tragic survival in the face of impossible odds. There's no magic to it: you just refuse to give up. You get the job done."

"But it's not," she said, so softly he could barely hear her. "It's not, and who knows when the Archdemon will show itself again." She shook her head, and sighed. "I've failed."

"You'll find out what happened," he said, squeezing her hand. Now was not the time for this confession. "And there will be a reckoning then, I'm sure." He started to get up, to leave her in some privacy. Surely she hadn't been allowed the time to grieve yet, and he knew she would not in the presence of others.

"Loghain," she said, her raven eyes like flat black pools in her pallid face. "That kiss…."

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her.

It took five minutes, but she finally settled for, "Why?"

He smiled. It wasn't entirely a pleasant one. "Because neither of us is dead yet."


	15. NOW What?

Risa absolutely _hated_ this.

Back in Orzammar, as Princess, she had had to appear before the deshyrs in full armor, polished to a mirror shine, with her hair and cosmetics carefully done to show her beauty as well as her strength and confidence. But she was no longer a princess, and to be forced to do it before the _human_ court…

And there were Alistair and Anora, side by side, going on about the Blight, and oh yes the Hero of Ferelden. She supposed that was she, and she walked up to the dais to receive her accolades.

She'd seen warmer, friendlier looks from emissaries than she got from Alistair. Blah blah blah boon, yeah, ok. In a surprise move, she asked for freedom for the Mages – Morrigan and Wynne deserved that much. Anora also gave her Amaranthine, Howe's Arling, and told her to create a Grey Warden base there. Yay.

"If that is the case, Your Majesty," she asked, head bowed, on one knee, "then I ask one final boon: Warden Loghain to accompany me as my Warden-Constable."

Alistair was only too glad to assent, as Risa expected. He hated Loghain and the further his father-in-law was from court, the better he'd consider it. Amaranthine wasn't the Void, but it was a good start. Risa saw a softening in his glare at her, and a faint smile – and she was happy to at least have given the man some pleasure. Risa also saw the look in Anora's eye and knew they'd have rather a long, and if she didn't miss her guess, heated discussion thereof.

Surprisingly, when she looked to Loghain as she left the dais, his nod to her was courteous and… relieved? Well, surely he had little to no desire to be in Denerim, to be glared at and paraded on a leash as the Traitor Redeemed.

* * *

 

"My Lady!"

And… just to make he day complete, there was Gorim – her first love. Oh, how _wonderful_ to have both her first love and Alistair in the same room to remind her that she could never be truly happy.

"Gorim. How does your wife, old friend?" She could do this. She COULD.

"Well, I thank you. We have a beautiful daughter…" His voice grew softer. "I hope you don't mind… we named her for you, my lady."

She nodded, even though the lump in her throat threatened to choke her.

"My lady, we head back to Orzammar this week… you have been named a Paragon and can have your own House now."

Risa smiled, though her eyes were suspiciously bright. "That must just burn the arses of House Aeducan. Piotyr must be spitting blood."

"When are you coming back, My Lady?"

"I can't right now. Warden responsibilities. But relay to the Shaperate my sincere thanks and that I wish the house name, since it cannot be Aeducan, to be Warden."

* * *

 

"My thanks, Commander," Loghain said, falling into step beside her. "I have no doubt there will be a very lively discussion in the palace about my assignment with you."

"Alistair needs to learn to stand up to Anora if he is to rule in more than name only," Risa observed. "It'll be good practice for him."

Loghain chuckled, "You are I will have to agree to disagree on that notion, Commander."

"As if that's never happened." She looked up at Loghain. "So… when will all this fool preening and posturing end?"

"It ends?"

Risa stopped dead. "Soneone call the Chantry – tell them to mark today with a red letter – _the General made a joke…_ "

He looked at her and shrugged, getting back to her question. "I think I asked Maric that, once… still waiting for it to end."


	16. Everybody's Talkin'

" _Maker_ , you're beautiful…." Alistair breathed against her neck.

Risa had looked up at him tenderly as well, her calloused hand stroking his… wow, his newly shaved cheek. She felt giddy all over again.

He'd shaved. For her.

The idea that he'd gone to the trouble of grooming himself beyond their normal bathing and tossing on of comfortable clothing made tears come to her eyes. They'd been comrades in arms for so long… how and when had it turned into love?

She blushed to think that she was, in this little partnership, the "experienced" one – but clearly she'd known nearly as little as he about physical intimacy.

 _This_ time it _hadn't_ hurt.

She curled into him, and he felt wetness on his shoulder. "Heyyyy," he said soothingly, bending to kiss her forehead.

"Happy tears," she assured him with a watery smile. She reached over and grabbed a corner of the blanket they'd tossed aside, and dragged it across them both.

"What did I ever do to deserve a beautiful woman like you?" he murmured in her ear.

She smiled and snuggled against him. "I was wondering the same thing."

"What _I'd_ done to deserve _you_?"

She chuckled. "What I'd done to deserve YOU, Your Highness."

He groaned. "Please, Your Highness, no honorifics."

She smiled and kissed his lips again tenderly. "See? We belong together. The cast-off prince and the exiled princess."

"We do, don't we." He pulled her close, closed his eyes. "Well, that's settled then. Together… forever."

* * *

 

The next morning was a difficult one. Risa was sore and tired, and everywhere she looked she seemed to see faintly amused – or disapproving – looks. She decided to say nothing – what was there to say?

Alistair, for his part, was bouncing around, happy and manic. His normal cheerfulness seemed multiplied as he helped tear down the camp with the ebullience of a mabari puppy.

"Well, well…" It was Morrigan, of course. "It appears you've found a second use for the fool."

Risa turned a look on Morrigan that should have frozen her solid. "I'm sorry…?" she said in a tone that clearly stated she wasn't.

"Well, was he at least enj—"

"You appear to be under the misapprehension that there is something to discuss which is any of your business." Risa said glacially.

"Perhaps," Morrigan purred, "if you wished to have some privacy, the two of you MIGHT have made SOME attempt NOT to keep all of us awake all night."

Risa felt her ears burning under her long hair as she walked away.

* * *

 

"Warden, may I speak?"

Risa was surprised. Sten rarely initiated conversations with anyone. She nodded to him, knowing he felt comfortable with as little speech as possible.

"It is not wise to copulate with your troops," he said without preamble. "It can only cause dissent and resentment. If you choose one alone, it implies favoritism. If more than one, rivalries and possessiven—"

Risa raised one hand, and he stopped.

"We are _not_ having this discussion."

* * *

 

Oghren leered at her as she walked by.

She raised one hand and glared at him, and whatever he has been about to say died a-borning.

Having been The Lady Risa Aeducan certainly had its benefits.

* * *

 

A wave of blue-white healing light washed over her, and Risa looked up, confused, into Wynne's faintly disapproving face.

"Were it not for the need for us to cover a great many miles, I'd have left you to heal naturally," she said with a sniff.

Risa nodded stiffly.

"Maker above… if you're determined to be about this, come to me later… there are salves that can… ease the way."

* * *

 

It seemed like everyone had their comment to make. Even Shale had alluded to their activities, and Leliana had tried to pry out of her a review of Alistair's performance. By the time she was back on night watch, with Zev as her partner, she was sick to death of the comments, the sly looks, and the snickers.

Zevran sat beside her quietly, looking over her shoulder at the east side of the camp while she watched the west. He smiled and leaned over, and began, "So, my dear Grey Warden…"

Risa stiffened.

"Since you've left Orzammar, what has been your favorite discovery from the surface world?"

She gave him a sharp glance, then, carefully, said, "Iced cream."

The elf laughed softly. "Truly? Iced cream?"

She nodded. "Where do you suppose we would have had room for cows? Sheep? Goats? Or refrigeration?"

The elf chuckled. "What a delightfully uncomplicated world view. Iced cream." He smiled. "Which flavor?"

Risa looked astounded. "There are different flavors?"

"Oh my, yes," he said, his voice dropping to a purr. "All sorts of fruit and herb flavors. My dear, I shall have _such_ fun seducing your tongue with them all when we get to Denerim."

* * *

 

Into the last hour of her watch, Risa finally asked, "Out of curiousity… why haven't you commented on…"

"Your recent… _exertions_ with your fellow Grey Warden?"

"That's one way to put it," Risa replied quietly.

"My deadly sex goddess, you forget where I was born and raised. It's a pleasant enough diversion, and glad I am to see that it brings you some peace and enjoyment in your struggle. What business, though, is it of anyone to comment upon what you and your templar friend get up to, eh? Although I do see how you might find it ironic that I would not dream of speaking of such a matter while the rest of the group has no problem inserting themselves in your business." He chuckled, a sexy purr. "Of course, I _am_ always ready to insert myself into your business should I be invited!"

Risa smiled then and laughed, leaning back onto her hands. "Zevran, you amaze me, truly."

"Ah, but I do not fascinate you enough to join you and your Templar – or to teach you, privately of course, a few things to really rock his world."

"No, I'm sorry, Zevran." She said patiently.

"Ah. You and my good friend Alistair are under the impression that you have invented sex, then." He seemed very amused. "Well, who knows. Reinventing this particular wheel should be rather exciting for both of you. But a suggestion if I may…."

"Zevran," she said warningly.

"To play games, pretend games, to keep things interesting." He grinned wickedly. "Might I suggest the naughty Templar and the innocent mage apprentice?"

"ZEVRAN!"


	17. A Dish Best Served Cold

They were camped just outside of Denerim.

"Oh, _Ancestors_ …"

"Ah, my dear… here… let me just…"

A giggle, then an appreciative hum of contentment. "Zevran… that's _amazing_ …."

Alistair felt his ears burning, and a nauseous, twisted knot of anger deep in his gut as he stalked towards Risa's tent as he returned from finishing the last watch. He'd never liked the assassin, but he had thought…

Well. Whatever he had thought, he had thought wrong.

"Now, my darling, open wide…"

"Oh my….. that's _wonderful_ … I'm not sure which way I like it best!"

The unmistakable groan of pleasure nearly undid Alistair, and he started to stomp off in the opposite direction. He tripped over a gnarled root – not enough to fall, but certainly enough to make some noise as he caught himself. As if things couldn't go worse, he heard scrambling inside the tent, and Risa's face appeared at the tent flap – breathless and… and grinning at him?

"Alistair, perfect timing!" she chirped, waving him over. "Come on, you've got to try this!"

He went beet red, and with as much dignity as he could muster, snarled, "No thank you," and stormed off.

* * *

 

He was stripped to his waist, washing his face, hair and upper body in the icy stream, when he heard footsteps come up behind him. He didn't need to look to see who they belonged to – that sound was as familiar to him as his own breathing.

"Did you need something?" he asked sharply, rubbing his hair with a towel, making it stand all on end, spiky and damp.

"Alistair…"

He rounded on her, and she stepped back, eyes wide, in the face of his obvious anger and humiliation. "Whatever it is you want or need, I'm sure _Zevran_ would be more than happy to provide it for you!"

Ah, now… that look on her face… she looked somewhat baffled, yes, but hurt. She looked about as hurt as he figured he felt. Her body language changed, and she slumped a bit, looked… sad.

 _Good_.

She shook her head, then pulled herself up stiffly, and turned without another word, dropping something small and solid and white as she walked out of the clearing by the stream.

He walked over a few minutes after her footsteps had faded away, curious about the white something she'd dropped. He picked it up – a small, white rectangular box – perhaps four ounces or so in weight? It was cold to the touch, and tentatively, he lifted the flap of it.

And groaned.

Idiot, he thought, and started to hurry back to camp.

* * *

 

He had nearly reached Risa's tent when a low snarl, rich with menace, reached his ears. He glanced to his left and saw Dog there, his head low and ears laid back, and the promise of pain and death in his eyes.

"Chantry boy," Oghren snorted in disgust, "if you value your life, make like a shepherd and _get the flock outta here._ "

* * *

 

"I didn't know, Leliana," Risa said inside the tent. Her confusion was evident. "Maybe it's some cultural thing neither Zevran or I get…."

"Or maybe your Templar jumped to conclusions and is very jealous and threatened and hurt that you might share something with another man?" Leliana said quietly.

"But I… I would _never_ …" Risa trailed off, and dropped a few boxes into Leliana's hands. "Here. Enjoy. I need… I need time to think."

* * *

 

She didn't emerge until it was time to take her watch the next evening, and she was not altogether surprised to find Alistair waiting for her, looking remarkably ashamed of himself.

"Risa…"

"I swear by the Ancestors I didn't know," she said. "And don't blame Zev, please… he was just as clueless as I was…"

" _Risa_ …"

"I would never mean to hu—"

" _ **Risa!**_ " He came closer, looking sheepish. "I… I owe you an apology. I misread the situation…."

"Alistair, I swear, if I'd known how much it meant to you, I would _never_ have done it!"

"Risa. I was an idiot and jealous when I overheard you and Zev in your tent, but I assure you, there is NO cultural taboo surrounding iced cream and the eating thereof."


	18. Horsing Around on the Way to Vigil's Keep

"Keep laughing," Risa said grimly, hauling herself back up into her shaggy cob's saddle. "I'm sure this is very amusing."

"You are determined," Loghain said, his eyes perhaps a bit amused by his commander;s stubbornness in mounting her horse alone. "I'll give you that."

"And what, Longshanks," she growled, "if I can't learn to mount and dismount myself? I hardly think the darkspawn will give me a leg up."

The shaggy little cob shook her mane as if in agreement with her rider. She was a small horse, true – but a _horse_ , not a _pony_. Risa's pride would never have allowed her to ride, as she put it, "a rich brat's pet."

Once more, she gripped her horse's mane, sticking her foot into the improbably high stirrup. Once more, she murmured softly to her horse – an apology or encouragement, he wasn't sure. Once more she pushed off from the ground, pulled for a moment on the mane and saddle horn… and was suddenly in the saddle.

Risa spent a moment patting the bay's neck, speaking soothingly, and leaned down and shortened the stirrup on the left side.

Loghain wouldn't say it, because it would only embarrass Risa – but he was proud of her. He'd never seen a dwarf on horseback except riding double… but she'd learned, under his tutelage, to saddle, to groom, to mount, dismount and ride her sturdy little cob.

"What shall you call your friend there," he asked. "You two seem to be getting along well now."

Risa stroked the horse's neck. "I think… Milady."

Loghain nearly snorted. The cob was as common as dirt, a shaggy little workhorse. No end of amusement from the nobles would that name be.

Risa stroked the horse, speaking confidingly to her. "Don't worry, Milady, nobility comes in all kinds. Even from as humble an origin as a farm." She shot her second in command a sly look.

Loghain did find himself laughing at that. "Oh, well done, Commander, " he rumbled with amusement. "Well shot indeed!"

"I try," she grinned.

He mounted his own horse, a beautiful black who arched his neck proudly and danced a few steps while Loghain settled into the saddle. "Well, ready to try her legs?" he asked.

In answer, Risa leaned forward and clucked into her bay's ear, and the horse immediately burst forward as if all the darkspawn in the Deep Roads were after her.

Loghain leaned forward too, and his stallion, Traveler, responded eagerly, chasing the smaller cob up the road.

Milady was small, but she had heart, and was far more nimble than her stocky shape implied. Still, it was a matter of minutes before they caught up and, seeing the impossibility of outrunning the taller, lankier horse, Risa reined Milady in.

"Good," Loghain acknowledged as Risa patted Milady. "If she's that fast off the mark, there will be little you can't outrun, at least over the short haul."

"That's my girl," Risa said softly. "Full of surprises."

 _Like her rider_ , Loghain supposed.

He was surprised at how easily the two of them got along, considering that eight months ago he'd been seeking her death and she'd had him at swordpoint on his knees. Her. Two feet shorter than he. It had been humiliating… as had her decision to spare him.

He still wondered why she'd done it. It had ensured that her lover, Maric's bastard, would hate her as much as or more than he'd loved her.

Almost as if she'd heard his thoughts, her eyes took on that far-off, impenetrable look – the "lost in memory" look, he called it, where she was undoubtedly thinking of some event on the road with Alistair. Perhaps thinking of their, to all reports, torrid love affair.

"There are," he ventured carefully, "more men in and on Thedas than M—than he."

Risa's attention snapped to the here and now with a scowl.

Wrong comment.

"Do you assume," she asked glacially, "that because I am a female I require a _male_ in my life?"

 _Definitely_ the wrong comment. "Commander…."

"Or do you perhaps assume," she asked conversationally, "that I require some sort of _love interest_ by virtue of being a female?"

"I think," he said carefully, "by virtue of being a _person_ , you might be missing some friends from whom you've drifted," he answered. "Maker knows I do."

She looked at him, considering, then clucked to Milady, having her walk on. "We've got our new orders," she said, almost conversationally. "We leave for Vigil's Keep in the morning."

Loghain sighed. She'd finished her riding education not a moment too soon. "There's a trip I'll not look forward to," he said. "It will be odd, to say the least, to be at Howe's estate with no Howes."

Risa nodded. "Right… you two were contemporaries, if not actual friends. Yes, it will be odd, I'm sure." She paused. "Had you been there before?"

"Often," Loghain said, and left it at that.

She nodded again, absorbing this. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?" he answered. "He murdered the Couslands for their lands and power, you dispensed justice, and were rewarded with his lands and title. There's nothing to be sorry for."

* * *

 

The next morning found Loghain, Risa and their escort, a young soldier named Mhairi, headed to Amaranthine. Risa thought the escort a bit silly. The General and she had slain the archdemon and ended the Blight, by Andraste's blistered sandals. What need for an escort? To make sure they went straight to the keep? It was very nearly insulting. She'd no doubt Mhairi was very eager but Maker, she looked as if she were the one needed minding.

Both Loghain and Risa reined up sharply as they came into sight of the keep. There was no one to greet them – and the fields looked empty – too still.

The familiar buzz was not worming into their heads though….

"OGRE!" Mhairi yelled, as it burst out of the gates.

"Oh, shit," Risa groaned.

* * *

 

In no time at all, it seemed, they'd stormed the Keep and on the way in met a mage who was burning down darkspawn – without a staff. He shook his hands out as he turned to see Risa, Loghain and Mhairi slide to a stop.

"Uh, I didn't do it," he said, glancing at the dead Templars laying near him. "Not that Biff there didn't make the most amusing gurgle on the way down…"

"Who are you," Loghain demanded.

"Anders," he responded brightly, "At your service. A mage and, sadly," he lowered his head and his voice, "an apostate."

Mhairi looked horrified. "An _apostate_? At Vigil's Keep?"

It was all Risa could do not to roll her eyes. She shrugged. "I don't care what you are, really," she said. "We could use some help in clearing out the 'spawn from the keep."

He looked nervous. "And if I would rather not….?"

"You could go now," she said, ignoring the gasp from Mhairi and the snort from Loghain. "The way behind me's clear. You could get well clear of here before the templars arrive."

Mhairi sounded like she wanted to choke.

"Ah, but they'd be onto me in a flash…."

"Not if I told them you were dead."

The mage's smile was brilliant. "Pretty as well as pragmatic!" He leaned over, grabbed Risa by the shoulders, and gave her a swift if heartfelt kiss.

Risa's eyes snapped wide open, and she shoved herself back from the mage. He skirted around her and started for the door with a grin

"Keep your hands off her," Mhairi snapped. "Don't you know that's _the Hero of Ferelden?!_ "

Risa shot her a look of pure venom, but the mage stopped mid-flight, his eyes suddenly considering. "Warden Aeducan?" he said with wonder.

She nodded.

He smiled wistfully. "Pleasure to meet you," he said, and bolted.

* * *

 

"But he was an _apostate_!" Mhairi was still repeating.

" _And?_ " Risa snapped, clearly annoyed with the the girl. "I've worked with apostates before – one of them helped me save Ferelden, as a matter of fact. And it was a _Circle mage_ , not an apostate, that nearly brought down the Circle."

"Don't remind me," Oghren snorted. The red-headed dwarf was twirling his axe with anticipation, grinning, "That Morrigan... what a witch. With a capital B!"

* * *

 

They had made it out to the battlements, and she noticed immediately that Anders was here, flattened around the corner.

"You might want to listen to this… there's darkspawn out there… and one of them is talking."

"You," Risa said, "are doing a remarkably bad job at being a dead mage on the run."

"Funny that," he said, "I stopped to help a wounded woman on my way out and then I thought you really probably could use a healer – so I figured I'd come back, see you clear out the last of the critters, and then be on my way."

"If you _must_ ," Risa said, smiling to let him know she was glad to have him backing them up.


	19. Conscripting an Apostate

Warden-Commander Risa Aeducan, Paragon of Orzammar, former Princess of Orzammar, Hero of Ferelden and former love of King Alistair Theirin looked up at her King and the Templar standing beside him, her black eyes steady and cool. Her entourage had all knelt before the King; she, a dwarf, was of course much shorter than they, and she caught a momentary glimpse of pain in Alistair's hazel eyes.

The thrice-damned nobles of Ferelden wouldn't let him marry a non-human – not even the Hero, a Dwarven princess, a paragon. And Alistair, damn him, was too honorable to marry and carry on an affair with her. She'd also done the unthinkable – spared Loghain despite Alistair's hatred of the man. She'd taken Alistair's nemesis and father-in-law with her when she killed the archdemon and had specifically asked that Loghain accompany her to Vigil's Keep – out of Alistair's sight. And so here they were, she at Vigil's Keep, rebuilding the order… Alistair in Denerim, rebuilding the country. She could tell he sensed her pain, as good as she was at hiding it from others. She could sense his, as well as the deep, smoldering anger about her choices beneath the surface. For the good of the country, though, they could be civil to one another.

"Rise," Alistair said, looking embarrassed. She didn't think he'd ever get used to people bending knee to him.

"Your Majesty," the templar spluttered beside him as Risa rose, "beware! That man is a danger!"

"What, Oghren? Bit of an arse, really, but he's all right…"

"She means me, Your Majesty." Anders looked miserable beside her, and she could feel the fear mixed with resignation in him. _He just told me he'd spent a year in solitary confinement for his last escape, she thought to herself. Ancestors, Alistair and I spent an afternoon in prison and I was never so happy as when I saw the back of that place. How can I condemn this man, a good man who stayed and fought when I gave him leave to run?_

"I'll have you hanged, Apostate, for the murder of your templar escort," Rylock hissed. "The First Enchanter can no longer protect you,"

"Murder!?" Anders cried, "but I never…" He looked at Rylock, then at the templars at her back, and wilted visibly. "What's the use of protesting… you'll never believe me…"

Risa's eyes narrowed, and met Alistair's. He recognized that look. There was determination there, challenge… and question. He held her eyes, dropped his chin slightly. He knew she'd seen his slight nod.

"I believe you," Risa said, her voice soft and steady. "This man chose to remain and aid me in retaking Vigil's Keep – I had no way to guard him with my mighty force of TWO. He was told, in fact, to clear out – but did not, and prevented many more deaths – mine, Mhairi's, Oghren's and the seneschal's, to name a few. Such are not the actions of a murderer. I will NOT turn him over to the gentle mercies of the Circle or the Templars."

Rylock turned a most unbecoming shade of purple, and she towered over Risa in her rage, "You WILL turn him over," she growled. "You cannot prevent it! The Chantry…."

"You forget yourself," Risa said sweetly, stepping forward. "I am not a templar to be ordered about by the Chantry. I am Warden-Commander of the Grey of Ferelden and this man," she said, pointing, "is now a member of my companions who will aid me in rebuilding." She smiled wolfishly. "Do I need to say the words, Knight-Lieutenant?"

"I will not allow…."

Risa turned and faced Alistair, dismissing the templar without so much as a second thought. "I invoke the right of conscription," she said.

"I WILL NOT….!"

Alistair turned to the templar, who'd put hand to sword hilt. "The treaties the Wardens have with all nations on Thedas as well as the Chantry confirm that she has the right to conscript whomever she pleases into the order. I defer to her request." Still more quietly, he said, "That is also the Hero of Ferelden, slayer of the Archdemon. Do you think it wise to threaten her or those in her protection?"

Risa did not take her eyes off the furious templar. In her peripheral vision, she could see Anders straighten in shock.

"Your Majesty…." Rylock began.

"I will allow it," Alistair said firmly.

Rylock managed a tight, "Yes, Your Majesty. May I have your leave to ready the troops?"

"Of course," he said, allowing her to walk off with what little dignity she could muster.

Risa smiled. "There now, problem solved." She looked over at the shocked mage, and shooed him off. "Wait for me at the steps," she said to him, Oghren, and Mhairi. "I am sure his Majesty has orders for me."

Alistair's face hardened as he caught sight of Loghain striding from the keep with a few soldiers at his back. Risa inwardly cursed her second's timing – if the two met in close proximity, it could not possibly go well. "Your Majesty," she said smoothly, trying to draw his attention, "there was a talking darkspawn we killed, as well."

That got his attention. "Talking? They can do that?" As Alistair swung around to speak to Risa, Loghain and his men disappeared into one of the outbuildings, apparently intent on something else.

Risa quickly updated Alistair on the state of Vigil's Keep. When Alistair and his troops finally turned to leave, Risa hesitated only a moment or two before she said gruffly, "Please extend my respect and good wishes to Her Majesty."

Alistair looked at her sharply. "I suppose next your Second will request I give her his best as well,"he sneered.

"I think both he and you have better sense than that." Risa bowed. "By your leave, Your Majesty." When she got his curt nod, she headed back into Vigil's Keep.


	20. Bad Blood

"So… do you think…." Anders eyes followed Commander Risa and her Constable, Loghain, as they walked the battlements, talking seriously about… something.

Oghren looked up to the wall, snorted. " _Them_? You kidding?"

"Well, they're always together, thick as thieves, talking about Maker knows what." Anders' voice grew softer. "I've heard them in her rooms, too… late at night…"

Oghren shrugged. "She's made a corner of her study her office – you should know that, she's got the door open all day so's people can stop and see her if they need to."

"Yeah, but come on, _all night?_ "

Oghren turned on the mage, stiffening. "Listen, Sparklefingers, it ain't like that. You enjoying those nightmares you get courtesy of that gulp of nug's piss?"

Anders shrugged. "I get by."

"They're ten times worse for people who Join during a Blight. The General, he never struck me as someone who slept much any road, but… they got it _bad_. There's times I travelled with her that her nightmares woke the whole camp – and then when _he_ joined…." Oghren shook his head. "I think the only way they deal with it is sit and talk until they're so exhausted they drop off and don't dream. That and drink. A LOT."

Anders looked appalled. "That's…. that's very unhealthy."

"So's the Joining."

Anders looked up at the battlements speculatively. "So they're _not_ an item?"

Oghren sighed. "There are easier ways to be emasculated," he grunted. "You could ask Dog to bite 'em off, for instance."

Anders grinned. "She likes me, though."

"Yer funeral."

* * *

 

"You _do_ realize," Loghain was saying as they overlooked the courtyard on their patrol of the battlements, "that the mage is going to be problematic."

Risa shrugged. "Mages often are. And I am well aware of his… proclivities."

Loghain raised an eyebrow. "He's a tomcat sniffing around for any female he can find in heat."

"As long as the females he beds are willing, I'm inclined to ignore it – so long as it doesn't interfere with his being a Warden or our healer. And he's a marvelous healer, by the by."

Loghain nodded. "You know he's been watching us as we patrol?"

Risa grinned wickedly. "I guess you'd better look to your virtue, then."

The former Teyrn snorted. "That you can imagine I have any virtue left about which to worry leaves me wondering about your sanity sometimes," he rumbled. "I rather think it's _your_ virtue he's interested in, however. I've seen the way he looks at you."

Risa shrugged. "I saved the Circle mages from the Rite of Anullment – by the way, great job there, conspiring with Uldred. Then I saved his admittedly delightful buns from Rylock. A little hero worship I can handle."

Loghain snorted, all he needed to do to express his doubts that Anders' interest was 'hero worship'. "It was delightful to see _the King_ ," Loghain said, stressing the two words. "I rather fancy he probably had a tantrum and a nosebleed after seeing me again."

Risa shot him an annoyed look, and Loghain dropped the topic of Alistair, other to observe, "The templar was most displeased at being overruled by him and by you. You'll need to watch your back, Commander."

"That," she told her constable, "is rather like saying, 'you shall have to remember to breathe, Commander.' 'Do remember to blink, Commander.'"


	21. Change of Heart

_Everything hurt._

That was the first coherent thought Risa had been able to form as she swum up from the black nothingness of unconsciousness. Even her hair seemed to hurt. She spent a moment more with her eyes closed, savoring the feeling of cold stone against her bare skin – it soothed bruises she knew went clear to the bone.

The second thought she had, as her eyes slid open, was that Anora Mac Tir-Theirin was a lying, backstabbing _bitch_ , and that if it wouldn't destabilize the entire country, Risa would slit her throat. She pushed herself to her feet, and the world wobbled nauseatingly.

The third thought she had was when she stumbled and would have fallen, and strong, comforting arms – familiar arms – caught her, was that she had to survive, if only to get Alistair out of this house of horrors. "You're awake," Alistair murmured, in a voice tinged with both relief and grief.

They'd been beaten and tortured in the same room, separated only by a matter of yards. Both of them were battle hardened and familiar to pain – and the endless cycle of injury and healing that they'd experienced on the road was continued here albeit in a much more accelerated and focused pattern. That had not been so bad. The worst part was being helpless to stop the abuse and degradation of the person you cared about, only feet away… having to hear it and see it because you _couldn't_ look away, _couldn't_ leave the other person alone in their misery. Risa was able to endure her own abuse but to see Alistair like that and not be able to stop it…

To see the look on his face as her jailors degraded her had made her want to die.

Alistair kissed the top of her head, clearly wanting to hold her tightly but not knowing how to without hurting her. "Do you think the others will come for us?"

She nodded. "Probably," she said, "though I think only Leliana or Zev would have the subtlety to reach us before the whole fort was called down around them." She looked around, gently disengaging herself from him. "I prefer to make our own luck."

Alistair nodded seriously. "What do you need?"

"Lie down. Be ready," she said softly, and as he curled back up on the floor, she kissed his lips quickly, and then charged the door, shaking it and yelling in a voice cracking and tinged with terror, "Guard, GUARD! Help me! He's having a seizure!"

There was some muffled cursing down the hall, and the guard came into view. "Shut up!" he yelled, banging his mace against the bars, Risa only just getting her fingers out of the way.

She could see Alistair trembling and hear him moaning in her peripheral vision.

"Please," she begged, letting a tinge of desperation come into her voice, forcing tears to well up in her eyes. " _Please_ , help him. I'll do ANYTHING, _**please**_ …."

A speculative look came into the guard's piggy eyes, and they narrowed. " _Anything_ , eh?"

Risa looked over her shoulder to where Alistair was now lying with pink-tinged froth at the corner of his mouth. " _ **PLEASE!**_ "

The guard unlocked the door, and Risa backed from it, letting him in. The guard nodded toward the wall. "Up against the wall," he growled, motioning with the mace. "Face it. I'll see to him after I see to _you_."

Risa closed her eyes and braced herself against the wall. _I can do this,_ she thought, shuddering. _I can._

The guard had just placed his hands on her hips when he was torn away from her. Risa whirled, her fists balled up, ready to attack but the snap of the guard's neck under Alistair's hands told her that would not be necessary.

He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the pink spittle as Risa grabbed the guard's keys and tossed Alistair the guard's helmet. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Thanks to you," she said, kissing him quickly. "You?"

"Bit my tongue a little," he said, "but that worked out well." He was rapidly stripping the armor from the guard and putting it on himself.

"I thought it was a good touch," she admitted, getting ready. When he was dressed, she slipped through the open door like a wraith, down to the chest where their weapons and such had been hidden. Maker above, their belongings had just been dumped – and here were health poultices aplenty.

* * *

 

Their path through the prison was a bloody one. Risa once or twice glanced over at Alistair and was shocked at how utterly ruthless he was in dispatching the guards.

And then, coming out of the barracks, they ran into the guards that had participated in their torture. The two who had lain hands on Risa and forced Alistair to watch were dispatched by him in an especially grisly way.

As they moved toward the front of the fort, Alistair grabbed her arm.

"Risa, that _bitch_ can't be left sole ruler of Ferelden," he growled. "It's clear that she'll throw allies, enemies, _anyone_ to the wolves just so long as she retains power. _I'll_ do it. _I'll_ be king."

Risa nodded slowly. "I… think that's best, Alistair," she agreed. "I know you didn't _want_ to…"

"I want to now. _Believe me,_ I want to."

Risa turned away, keeping her voice light. "Come on… let's get out of here."

As they made it to the chapel, Leliana and Morrigan burst through the front doors, looking surprised. "Well… I guess you really didn't need us to come get you, did you?"

Risa and Alistair looked at each other, then their companions.

"Let's get out of this sodding place," Risa grated.


	22. Straight Shooting

"Commander."

Risa looked up from her desk, where she was working her way through the day's paperwork, to see Anders standing in her doorway. He stood there with his hands behind his back, leaning on the doorframe.

"Anders."

She considered the mage for a moment, her eyes assessing him as they assessed everything around her. Tall. Lean. From what she could see of his bared upper arms, courtesy of the Tevinter-styled robes, well-toned. He was easy on the eyes as well – dirty blonde hair, lovingly styled into a rakish tail, a bit of stubble along his jaw and chin, amber eyes. His voice was smooth and dark like melted chocolate. An earring winked in his right ear.

If she were at all inclined to seek out company ever again, he might actually do. Given how disastrously her first two love affairs had ended, though, she was not inclined – not even if she were not his superior officer.

"What can I do for you, Anders?" she asked, folding her hands before her.

"It's more what _I_ can do for _you_ ," he rumbled, a sexy purr, as he pushed himself upright from the doorframe and stepped forward. " _Voil_ à!" His hands swung to the front, and in his right he held a bottle of wine and two glasses, held by neck and stems. The left had a plate, covered with a burgundy napkin.

She watched him approach, her expression never changing, as he set the glasses and bottle down on a bare corner of her desk. Then, with a flourish, he yanked the burgundy cloth off the plate to reveal a platter with a variety of cubed cheeses, thinly sliced toasted bread, and fresh fruit – grapes, strawberries, apple slices and pear slices.

Her stomach growled. _Damned Warden appetites_.

Anders grinned, setting the plate down as well. "It appears I am just in time."

"Thank you," she said. She still hadn't moved, nor did she seem particularly inclined to conversation.

"So… why did you become a Grey Warden?"

She shrugged, as if the question were utterly unimportant. "Why did you?"

He looked at her oddly. "I had to," he said. She'd been there – and had conscripted him.

"Much the same story," she said.

If he took any note of her rather terse answers, he didn't show it. "Shall I pour?"

Risa set aside her paperwork carefully, and nodded. Best to see what approach the mage took rather than assume anything.

He poured a rich red wine into both glasses, and handed one to her, swirling his around in the glass before setting it down untouched. Risa followed suit.

"So… you and Loghain have been through a lot together."

"We have." Risa picked up a cube of cheese, frowned at it briefly before popping it in her mouth. "That would be why I chose him as my Warden Constable."

"Defeated the Archdemon together."

"He was present, yes."

"Travelled together during the Blight."

"Only a few months. My other companions, for nearly two years."

"Still, you two seem…."

Risa took a sip of her wine, then picked up and bit the tip off a strawberry. "Why don't you just come out and ask if we're fucking?"

The mage looked as if he'd been hit with a lightning bolt. "Well, I… uh…."

" _No_ , not that it's any of your business." She watched him carefully. "Any other questions?" She took another deliberate bite from her strawberry.

He smiled and shifted gears. "I have heard some amazing ballads about your adventures."

"The curse and blessing of travelling with a bard, I suppose." Her eyes softened a little. "At least most of them are… flattering."

There was a quick knock at the door, and Garavel was there. "Commander… what with the darkspawn and all, things have been rather unsettled. We have… a situation in the dungeon."

She stood, popping the rest of the strawberry into her mouth and washing it down with a gulp of wine. "Report. Anders, with me."

The guard captain was surprised to see that his dwarven commander kept up with him easily. "Just before the attack, we arrested a man – a thief, we think. He's been locked in a cell this whole time."

Risa nodded. "Well, let's go see this man."

* * *

"Aren't you supposed to be ten feet tall and shooting lightning bolts from your eyes?"

Risa looked at the man. Bitter as hell, and oddly familiar, though she knew she'd never met him before. "I see my reputation precedes me," she said dryly.

"Funny, I expected my father's murderer to be more imposing. Certainly taller. You DO remember my father, don't you?"

She heard Loghain come up behind her. "Nathaniel Howe," he rumbled. "When last I heard, you were still squiring in the Free Marches."

"Mac Tir." The young Howe scowled. "Thrown in with the traitors, I see."

"Have a care, young pup," Loghain said mildly.

Howe. That explained a lot. The father had murdered the Couslands almost to the last one, and had sent assassins to kill the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden. His spite had been a thorn in their side until the moment he died, gurgling, on the end of her longswords. Risa considered the young man in the cell. "Why are you here?"

"At _first_ , I thought I'd slit your throat," he growled, "but that would restore neither my father's life nor my family honor." He paced. "I simply want to gather some family mementoes and go."

She raised an eyebrow. "And that's all?"

"Yes." The look in his eyes, however, added the words _for now_.

She turned to Garavel. "Escort him. Let him take his personal belongings and mementos, and then show him out." She heard a strangled gasp from Anders, a snort from Loghain. "If he's seen back on these grounds without permission after that, we'll try him." She gave him an impenetrable look. "It would be a shame to hang you, Howe."

Then she turned on her heel and walked out.

* * *

"You play a dangerous game," Loghain observed, once they were alone. "The Howes are an implacable and sly bunch."

"Counting on it," she said inscrutably.

He looked at her searchingly. "You _expect_ him to return."

"Of course. I returned to avenge my father and brother, did I not?" She looked up at Loghain. "I've been merciful, giving him the opportunity to take his mementos and go. No one would blame me for hanging him if he returns…."

He sensed the pregnant pause, and smiled humorlessly. "Nor for conscripting him."

She nodded. "He snuck in and it took four Wardens to arrest him. That bespeaks great skill in thieving and assassination. I should know."

"That also bespeaks a reason to be cautious, lest you wake with a slit throat one day."

"Or not wake, as the case may be." She shrugged. "But that's why I have the finest second-in-command in Thedas."

"Flatterer."

"It's not flattery if it happens to be true." She looked up at Loghain as they reached the courtyard. "In truth, you'd probably run this arling as well or _better_ than I, given you understand the nuances of human government. We both know why that'll never be allowed to happen, though."

"Maric's-"

"When we're in public," she cut him off, "I'll remind you to refer to him with the courtesy due his position." Her look softened, slightly. "And in private, I would _ask_ you to do the same."

Loghain shook his head slightly. "Your… feelings for _the King_ are not going to embarrass my daughter, are they?"

Risa met his cold blue glare without flinching. "You may have noticed that I am in Amaranthine, far from the King, the Queen, and the court. We cannot show disrespect to the crown, Loghain. That's all."

" _Do_ you still care for him?"

Risa didn't answer for a long time, and couldn't meet his eyes. Then she looked up, lips compressed to a tight line. "Does it matter?"

He examined her minutely. Yes. It was obvious she still cared. But as she said, she was in Amaranthine, and he in Denerim. In her dealings with her former lover she had been painfully correct and distant, often using Loghain or another Warden as a buffer. And she had never been alone with him since the Landsmeet. No, it looked as if Risa Aeducan were being very careful about NOT embarrassing Anora.

She _was_ an honorable Dwarf, after all.

* * *

Risa sat on top of the battlements, the remains of the bottle of wine Anders had brought her beside her. As she sat watching the sunset, she ate another piece of cheese, then put the bottle to her lips and took a deep swig.


	23. A Proper Meal and Improper Conversation

"So you actually asked him why he had not asked an incredibly personal question about our professional relationship?" Loghain looked as if he were caught between being amused and being aghast.

"Mages," Risa said, spearing herself a couple of thick slices of beef from the platter between them and transferring them to her plate, "are amazingly blasé about physical intimacy." She scooped a prodigious scoop of mashed potatoes and shook them onto her plate next.

"I prefer to be quite a bit more circumspect." Loghain spooned some peas onto his plate as well, then poured them each a glass of wine.

They were sitting in her office, door open, at a small table. Cook had learned early on that the Commander and her Second often were too busy mired in paperwork to make it to the mess at any reasonable hour, and had taken to sending one of the maids up with their dinner.

Risa smirked. "You'd have loved the look on his face."

"Commander, I would have preferred to simply refuse to dignify any remarks about it." Loghain shook his head. "Should Anora hear of this, I am sure she would find it… distressing."

"Oh, what," Risa asked irritably. He was annoyed with her – that was the only time he called her Commander when they were alone. "That her father is not having a physical relationship, or the idea that people know you still could?"

"There is a third possibility you haven't thought of," he grimaced. "That since you saw fit to deny it, there's something to deny."

"The old, 'the lady doth protest too much' saw?" Risa shrugged, cut into her beef, and popped a huge chunk of it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Ancestors, it's not as if we're children."

There was a knock at the door, and Anders stuck his head in. "Commander…. I hope I'm not interrupting…."

"Dinner, yes. Anything else, no." She winked at Loghain, then picked up an apple from a bowl and tossed it to Anders, who caught it ably. "What do you need?"

"Erm… I rather need to visit Amaranthine, actually..."

Risa nodded. "Supply run?"

"Not… quite." Anders walked in after Loghain waved him in, and at a nod from Risa, pulled up a chair. Grabbing two slices of bread from the basket, he grabbed a slice of beef and wrapped it with the bread. "I found out that my phylactery… is in Amaranthine."

Risa and Loghain traded a look, then shot a glance at the blonde mage as he chewed his stack of bread-and-meat.

Risa sighed. "Well, we're certainly about make friends and influence people, aren't we?"

Loghain shrugged. "It rather occurs to me that mages being leashed to the Chantry without any hope of freedom leads to all sorts of... unfortunate events."

Anders flinched. The near-destruction of the Circle Tower had happened because Uldred had been conspiring with Loghain – Loghain had promised to make Uldred First Enchanter and to grant mages more freedoms if he could take the tower over so that the Grey Wardens would not be able to find help there.

Anders had been locked in the basement after his sixth escape attempt. Ironically, being in solitary had protected him from the insanity that had been unleashed. To hear Loghain discussing this, even very obliquely, made him shudder.

"So…." Anders asked, finishing up his first after-dinner meal.

"Tomorrow morning, bright and early, we go find your phylactery."


	24. Best of Breed....

"Commander."

Risa Aeducan looked up from the pile of paperwork on her desk to see one of the arling's privates standing in the doorway, looking uncomfortable. She nodded to her, and when the private simply shifted uncomfortably, Risa said sharply, "Report."

"Commander, the seneschal sent me to find you and Warden Loghain," she said in a rush. "Ser Arainai has caught an intruder…."

Risa slid out of the oversized chair behind the oversized desk. Either she'd take a saw to the damned things and bring them down to proper height, or demand that dwarf-sized furniture be brought into her rooms.

And yes, damn it, she HAD taken Rendon Howe's personal suite. She was the Arlessa of Amaranthine and she deserved it.

She grinned, an unpleasantly predatory thing. _She_ had deserved more – and _got it_. And now she was about to get her third Warden, because unless she VERY much missed her guess – Nathaniel Howe had returned.

* * *

She had not missed her guess.

Howe was standing in the throne room. He didn't look particularly fussed, actually – he looked as if he were waiting for her.

Loghain was there already, and he seemed slightly bemused by their guest. Risa noticed that Howe was standing there with a bow and quiver slung over his back.

_Interesting._

"I take it," she said, looking from Howe to Zev to Loghain, "that since Ser Howe still retains his weapons this is a social visit?"

"I wish to join the Wardens," the young noble said.

Risa looked him over. "Why?"

Howe shook his head. "How else am I going to redeem my name? You know King Alistair would never allow me to serve him; to slink back off to the Free Marches seems too much like running away."

Loghain snorted with amusement. "Commander, it occurs to me that having you, myself, and Howe all at Vigil's Keep will no doubt cause _all_ kinds of consternation for His Majesty."

Risa uttered a short, sharp bark of laughter. "Oh, to be a fly on _that_ wall when he finds out." Her black eyes danced with good humor, but sobered as she looked back at Howe."So, bows, daggers, and poisons. An assassin, I assume." She looked at Loghain for a moment, then sighing, said, "I should warn you, Howe… becoming a Warden is a decision not to be made lightly. There are risks…."

"What do I have to _lose_?" Howe asked sharply. "I've no home; I'm a pariah in Ferelden. There is no job anyone in Ferelden would give me. Much as I may… feel strongly about you, you DID end the war, end the Blight, and here we are." He looked away. "I could do some good."

"Just… be certain." She glanced at Loghain again, hoping she was not saying too much… sensing Loghain's impatience with her dancing around the subject. "When we say it's a 'duty that cannot be foresworn'… it's _not_ hyperbole."

* * *

"Commander… _Risa_ …." Anders was finding it hard to keep up with their dwarven Warden, even given his lanky limbs. "You're not _seriously_ considering making Howe a Warden? We all heard him threaten to _kill_ you!"

"Not your decision, Anders," she said warningly.

The mage decided to press it. "But didn't his father…."

She stopped dead, and he slammed into her. In Anders' head, he should have staggered Risa, she was so much smaller than he. In reality, it was like slamming into a brick wall… she was solid muscle.

"It may have escaped your notice," she said calmly, "but he is _not_ his father. It may have _further_ escaped your notice that when his father had me hunted like a rabid boar, _two_ of us entered that dungeon in Denerim and only _one_ of us walked out." Her eyes narrowed. "And before we begin what I am sure will be a _fascinating_ discussion of bloodlines and traitors, remember who is second in command here."

Anders took a step back. "But…."

"We're _all of us_ misfits," she snapped. " _I'm_ an exiled princess branded as a kinslayer. _You're_ an apostate mage accused of murdering your templar handlers. _Oghren's_ a drunk who was all but exiled from Orzammar for murder. And let's not forget what my second's accused of. _You_ tell _me_ how an assassin paying for his father's sins does not fit in here. _Shards and sand_ , he's probably got the best _moral character_ of any of us here."

She spun on her heel and went to tell Varel to prepare another Joining.


	25. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loghain spends some quiet moments on the battlements.

Loghain Mac Tir moved amazingly quietly for a man both his size and his age.  He mounted the steps to the battlements almost completely noiselessly, dressed in leather armor rather than his more familiar Chevalier plate.

He had been a farmer’s son, a poacher and bandit long before he had been the hero of the River Dane, and felt more comfortable lightly armored than when he clanked about in a metal shell.  The plate armor he wore was to remind everyone of how Fereldens had thrown those Orlesian bastards – better trained, better armed, better armored, and with better numbers – out of their home.  He’d stripped that armor from a Chevalier right on the battlefield, the body not even cooled yet, and wore it to frighten the cheese-eating, painted, poncy bastards every time he met them on the field.    It made him look even more intimidating than his natural height, sharp, craggy features, and piercing ice blue stare did.  But he saw no need to wear the armor at the Keep unless there were business afoot – and at six o’clock in the morning, there should be nothing terribly exciting or dangerous going on.

He slipped up the steps to the battlements.  At this early hour, he passed one of the sentinels with a nod.   Even without the darkspawn having surprised the Keep from its cellars – and they were on the way to ending that threat as soon as the men were able to dig through the rubble caused by that fool dwarf and his explosions – the sacking of Highever Castle was an object lesson to all about complacency.  He would never allow the Vigil to be so surprised, and had made that plain to Varel and Garavel – no doubt making himself even more popular as he doubled the normal patrols.

Such were his responsibilities as Risa Aeducan’s Warden-Constable.

A year ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of taking direction from a dwarf girl less than half his age, but then – a year ago he had not imagined that he would have made such fatal mistakes in his quest to protect Ferelden that he had nearly caused her destruction.  And this dwarf had, in fact, been the instrument of Ferelden’s rescue – quelling the civil war by beating him senseless in the Landsmeet, sparing his life much to the rage of his son-in-law, who’d abandoned his oath to defeat the Blight in a fit of pique.  Maric’s bastard had married Anora willingly enough in order to rule Ferelden. 

Maric’s bastard – Loghain thought on that young man and his fist clenched unconsciously.  The boy had been Risa’s lover, and had broken it off with her in the most acrimonious way possible.  Loghain suspected that the dwarva had been prepared for the break, but not for Maric’s bastard abandoning his responsibilities so abruptly – and not for the vicious things he had said to her, personally.  Loghain would have preferred not to have been privy to what had been said, but as he’d been preparing to take the Joining in the next room, he had heard every spiteful word.

Loghain knew he was exiled from Denerim; he had not even been able to stay for his daughter’s wedding to the man.  All he knew was that exile or no, if he ever heard word of the oaf treating Anora anywhere _near_ the way he’d treated Aeducan, whatever Anora left of him would be Loghain’s to crush, king or no.

As he made the top of the steps, he caught sight of his Commander leaning against the wall, watching the sunrise.  She wore only a simple dress, blue, with the skirt slit up the sides so she could move freely in it.  It was belted tightly with a sash of gold, and she looked every inch the lady.

Risa was small – nearly two feet shorter than he, and didn’t they look ridiculous next to one another? – but people never really seemed to notice.  Her… presence – some might say ego, but they’d be wrong, or only speaking out of jealousy – made her seem a giant, in truth.  On the battlefield, in command – no one doubted or hesitated to carry out her orders.  He had seen grown men flinch back from the sharp edge of her tongue when they failed her – and sigh with relief when she flung herself between them and impending doom.

Here, though, he was seeing her in one of her rare, unguarded moments – her raven-black hair freshly washed and shining in the morning’s tentative golden light.  Her face had smoothed in relaxation and wonder as she watched the sun peeking up from the horizon – a sight few dwarves could claim to have seen.  There were signs of the hardship of their fight against the Blight – crows’ feet at the corners of her onyx eyes, a furrow in her brow that never _quite_ went away – but for the most part, she looked a young woman, enjoying what was becoming a spectacular sunrise.

 _Maker’s breath_ , he thought as he stopped to regard her.  The girl deserved so much _more_ than she had.

He realized he’d drifted too close to her when she stiffened, her head cocking attentively.  He felt the faint buzz of her taint behind his eyes, and knew she must be feeling him as well.  This was confirmed when she turned and, though her eyes became a touch more guarded, she beckoned him over.

“I never get tired of seeing sunrise and sunset,” she murmured when he drew near, her voice as dark, rich and sultry as melted chocolate.  Then a quirked half smile, her eyes a little sad.  “A view only a surfacer can appreciate.”

“You could go back to Orzammar at any time, and you know it, Paragon,” he said, reminding her that a new house – House Warden – had been created in her name.  Gorim something or other – her old lieutenant – had been given the responsibility of recruiting into the house.  Risa had broken from tradition by also actively recruiting the casteless to be elevated into the house.  He smiled slightly to himself, looking forward to someday seeing her tell off some arrogant noble when she went home and was censured for it.  She may not have held the title any longer, but she could be every inch the Royal – with all the command and ego that went with it.

“Warden,” she said in a mock-stern voice, “Have you failed to report to me that the darkspawn have retreated back to the Deep Roads for good?”

“Nothing of the like, Commander.”

“Then stop talking idiocy.”  The words were softened by her tone, and he came to stand beside her on the wall.

“It _is_ a pretty morning,” he said finally, leaning against the battlements.  “I had almost forgot how pretty a sunrise could be….”

“Ancestors, Loghain, you must be a cold-blooded bastard if you could,” she said in surprise.

He looked down at her, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, and his crows feet deepening a touch. 

She nodded, looking back over the sunrise.  “Point taken,” she said softly, simply enjoying the quiet, the light show, and his company.


	26. We Who Are Already Dead Salute You

Risa came down the last few rickety wooden steps into the breached hallway of the Deep Roads and felt her blood run cold. There was a lone member of the Legion of the Dead – a female dwarf – and she had just been slammed to the ground by a Hurlock Alpha and a mixed group of Hurlocks and Genlocks. The Alpha grabbed her by the ankle and started dragging the woman back towards the depths.

"Nonononononono NO!" Risa was running even as she nocked an arrow – running, firing, nocking, drawing. Anders, Nathaniel and Loghain chased after her.

"BLIZZARD!" she shouted out over her shoulder, and saw as the hallway before her suddenly became a blinding tornado of cold and ice. She heard Nathaniel's arrows whizzing overhead even as she charged, and Loghain's grunt as he, too, hit the wall of snow that Anders was providing. It slowed the darkspawn, and Risa dropped her bow, drawing her longswords instead, and hacked at the Alpha.

It howled in pain, and the young dwarf managed to kick free and scramble to pick up her axe. Then she and Risa stood for a moment, shoulder to shoulder, surrounded by the much larger 'spawn – then attacked with a yell.

The Alpha was blasted off its feet by Loghain's arrival and his shield bash – freeing Risa to lunge at the nearest Genlock Emissary and kill it. She always took out the spellcasters herself, cognizant that yelling "kill the casters" probably would NOT be something calculated to make Anders a happy man. Fortunately for her, the Legionnaire had had the same instinct and taken on the other spellcaster. That left Nathaniel and Anders picking their targets from a distance, Loghain still beating on the Alpha with sword and shield, and Risa and the Legionnaire killing whomever came near enough to them for the backstab.

Risa saw the Alpha pressing Loghain back, and ran for the two. When she was about ten feet away, she threw herself onto her knees and skidded along the icy stone right past the Alpha – hamstringing it as she passed. It dropped, and Loghain dispatched it immediately.

The blizzard died down, and Risa stood, breathing hard, and looked around the battlefield. The 'spawn were dead, the Legionnaire was shaking the darkspawn blood from her axe, and it looked like the Wardens hadn't been injured much.

"Wow, thanks for the assist," the Legionnaire chirped, taking off her helmet. She was a young dwarf, with large bright eyes, a huge smile, dark haired with pigtails and possessing a rather large tattoo on her face – a Duster-turned-Legionnaire, Risa saw. Didn't matter. Legionnaires were worthy of respect; they stood between Orzammar and certain death. "I thought they had me for a minute there!"

Risa could almost hear Anders swallow hard behind her. This Legionnaire would probably strike him as both cute and exotic. "You ok?" she asked the girl.

"Banged up pretty good, but hey, still standing thanks to you lot. " The girl's eyes suddenly widened, and she gasped, "Shards and stone – Your Highness – _Lady Aeducan_!"

"Please," said Risa gruffly, "It's Risa. Or if you must, 'Warden' or 'Commander'. What can I call you?"

Loghain had seen this reaction from dwarves before, so he merely shrugged and handed Risa her cast-off bow with the comment, "A craftsman should treat his tools with respect." Nathaniel and Anders however both goggled – they'd no idea she had been important in dwarven society before she'd come to the surface world.

"Sigrun's my name, my l—uh, Warden."

Risa ignored the way the Legionnaire stumbled over addressing her, and gave her instead an inquiring look. "You're limping… how are those ribs?" Risa motioned Anders over. "Sigrun, this is Anders – our healer."

"Hey, nice blizzard," Sigrun grinned at the tall blond mage.

"Thanks." He grinned at her. "Let's see if we can't fix those ribs up for you…"

Sigrun sat very still, letting him move his hands slowly over her. Dwarves were resistant to magic, so it took some time and effort, but finally her breathing eased and she knew he'd healed her up.

"I can't believe I'm sitting here talking with a soddin' Paragon – er, pardon my language," Sigrun said.

"No harm done," Risa said. "It's an honor to talk to a Legionnaire."

"Well, now that we're all honored," Loghain prompted.

"Right." Risa jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "This tall drink of ale's Warden Loghain. The formidable archer over there is Warden Nathaniel."

"Good to meet you all." The smile faded from her face, and she hefted the axe again, grunting in satisfaction at how easily she moved now. "I… I guess I better get back to it. The rest of my unit got slaughtered by the darkspawn… I better get down there and do what I can…."

" _Alone_?" Risa's face reflected horror, and none of her human companions understood why. "No, Sigrun, I can't let you do that."

"Hello, _Legion of the Dead?_ Had my funeral long ago, Commander…."

"You say there's a nest of darkspawn down there? We're coming with you. Let's clean them out together."

Sigrun's cheeky grin flared to a brilliant smile. "Really? Well, what are we waiting for!" Her grin faded, and she said to Risa very seriously, "And if we get caught… well…. I promise I'll kill you if you kill me."

"Deal," Risa said, shaking on it.

* * *

Several hours later, bloodied and bruised, the small war party stumbled back to the surface.

"If I never see a broodmother again," Anders said, looking a bit green, "it will be too soon."

"Lucky us, we got to see four of 'em at once," Risa said grimly.

"Commander, I don't understand," Nathaniel said, walking beside Sigrun, who seemed to be enjoying the view of all the male Wardens around her. "Why did you and Sigrun agree to kill each other if caught?"

A look passed between the two dwarves, and Risa sighed. "Howe, do you know where darkspawn come from?"

"I always assumed that when a mommy darkspawn and a daddy darkspawn loved each other VERY much…" Anders started, to be cut off by a glare from Loghain and a muttered, "Idiot."

"I don't know that I've ever seen a female darkspawn, other than… those." Nathaniel said thoughtfully.

"Yes, well, let me give you the short version: darkspawn breed by overpowering females of whatever race is handy, feeding them tainted flesh until they themselves become tainted, and raping them repeatedly until they transform into THOSE. Formerly human broodmothers birth Hurlocks; formerly dwarven broodmothers birth Genlocks." Risa looked grim.

"Ogres?"

"No real confirmation 'cos why would they admit it, but what race do you know that's big, grey and has horns?" Sigrun added.

There was a very uncomfortable silence, and Anders broke it a few moments later with, "And I thought I was going to be sick before…."

As they finally made open air, Sigrun stopped, a little reluctantly. Risa turned to face her while the rest of the party walked on a few more steps.

"Well… guess this is where I leave you. I… should get back to it." Sigrun looked back into Kal' Hirol a little dubiously; it wasn't hard for Risa to figure out the Legionnaire knew she wouldn't last long alone.

"Hey." Risa shrugged. "We Wardens fight and kill darkspawn all the time – and you might have noticed we're not bad at it."

Sigrun froze. "No, not half-bad at all," she said, consideringly.

"Think how much damage we could do together if you joined up with us."

Sigrun wavered. "Really? Become a Warden? Could I do that and still be a Legionnaire?"

Risa nodded. "A room of your own, three hots and a cot… well, considerably more than three hots, anyhow. By yourself, it's a matter of time before…. But with us…"

Sigrun's face threatened to split with her grin. "Well, sign me up!"

"The initiation could kill you," Anders blurted.

Sigrun snorted. "Hello, Legion of the Dead? Already dead. Nothing to lose… but potentially a lot to gain."

Risa smiled grimly, nodding to Loghain. "Let's get our fifth Warden Joined properly as soon as we get back."


	27. Bottled Up

Risa stared into the fire in her sitting room contemplatively, hunkered over with her elbows on her knees, wiping the back of her mouth and placing the brandy bottle on the small side table next to her chair.  For the first time in a very long time, she had the luxury of time to herself and time to think.

She wished she hadn’t.

Her mind kept straying to the things she steadfastly had tried to avoid thinking about – Gorim, and how he’d told her he loved her.  How he’d been her first, just after they’d found out they were to be exiled from Orzammar separately – he to the surface, she to the Deep Roads.  The night before they had both been exiled she’d freely given him her innocence – it was all she’d had left that she truly owned.   He’d told her where the Grey Wardens would be in the Deep Roads, told her where to look for them, told her to save her life.  He’d sworn to her that he’d meet her in Denerim if they both survived….

And she’d _found_ him in Denerim, true to his word.  Unfortunately, she also found him _married_ , a father, his pledge of love broken.  Perhaps he had never loved her, and she had only been convenient, or forbidden fruit – bedding the princess surely was a great conquest, even if he had never had the chance to brag of it to other warriors.  Maybe he _had_ loved her, but had had no faith that she could survive to fight her way to his side no matter what. 

She wasn’t sure which thought hurt worse, really.

Then Alistair – Ancestors, _Alistair_ , a human no less.  He’d drawn her out of her shell, soothed her quiet pain in ways she hadn’t known needed soothing, drew her out of her hard façade and solitude.  He had been her second self, her better half, her soulmate, the one constant in her life, the one rock-solid thing she could depend on.  She didn’t care that he wasn’t dwarven – dwarves were notoriously infertile to begin with and Grey Wardens apparently even more so.  She had loved him passionately, had given herself to him mind, body and soul….

And then she’d lost him – destroyed that all with her fine sense of honor and duty.  Even now, her eyes filled with hot tears as the memory of that last argument rang through her memory.  _Faithless, honorless bitch.  Traitor.  Manipulative bitch.  You used me, betrayed me!  You_ never _loved me!  I hate you and I wish I’d never had the misfortune to meet you._

 _I wish_ you’d _died instead of Duncan and the rest._

 _I hope you_ die _,_ alone _and in_ pain _._

It was small comfort remembering that she’d drawn her dignity around her like a cloak and walked away, trying to remember the man he had been.  But that calm seemed far beyond her reach today, and Risa buried her face in her hands, fighting to keep from sobbing aloud.  A year and a half, and his vitriol and hatred still threatened to overwhelm her.

Calm.

Center.

She clenched her teeth, refusing to make a sound.

She bit her lip, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths, feeling the dull ache in her chest as her heart stopped pounding QUITE so hard. 

As she struggled to master herself, she heard the unmistakable sounds of rather loud and enthusiastic sex coming from a room further down the hall.

 _Anders_ , she thought with resignation.  The man was a world class flirt and never lacked for female bed partners.  _There goes any chance of sleep any time soon_ , she thought bitterly, getting up from her wing chair and grabbing the bottle of brandy.  As pathetic as it was to moon and cry over things that were past and couldn’t be mended, staying to listen to _that_ would be worse.

Throwing a cloak over her simple tunic and blouse and jamming her feet into soft shoes, Risa blended into the shadows and ghosted down the hall.   She shook her head as she headed downstairs to the main hall.  It would be colder there, and colder still outside, but perhaps far enough away that she wouldn’t have to hear the healer and his bedmate as they drove each other to ecstasy and completion.

Risa wandered over to Master Wade’s forge.  He and Herren had retired for the evening, but warmth lingered in the banked coals.

She’d been noble class, not smith, so the art of crafting weapons and armor was well beyond her, but there was something familiar and almost homelike for her, lingering here.  It smelled like Orzammar, she decided – hot metal and earth. 

Some days she missed her home terribly – and then she remembered that she’d been cast out.  She was a living Paragon now, and she could and someday WOULD go back, head of the newly established House Warden.  For the moment, the memories of all she’d lost – father, brother, title, lover, home – they were too newly-minted, too sharp to bear.

And it hit her.  Her life had never been anything but a losing battle.  Family, friends, home, position, lovers… all taken from her.

 _I hope you die alone and in pain._   She wasn’t sure if the thought of those words made her want to laugh or cry.    _Ah well, at least_ someone _was getting part of his wish_. She stood before the forge, looking into the welcoming orange light, and took a hard pull from the bottle.  _When do I stop losing?_

She had just lowered the bottle, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth when it was suddenly tugged out of her grip.  She turned, her brows drawn together in consternation and concentration as she tried to figure out just what was going on.

“Aww, no, Commander,” Oghren said, angling his body so the brandy was furthest away from her.  “Trust old Oghren when he tells ya that’s not the way to go.”  The red-haired dwarf gave her a sympathetic look, shaking his head.

“Give it back,” she said quietly, glaring at him when he made no move to comply.  “GIVE it.”

“Yer not going to find anything at the bottom of that bottle that makes any of what ails you better,” he said quietly.  “Come on, things’ll look better in the morning.”

Risa’s look – pure disgust and anger – showed very clearly what she thought of that.  “Keep saying that,” she said bitterly.  “Maybe someday one of us will believe it.” 

* * *

 

 

“Risa.”

Risa realized she’d heard her name repeated at least twice before, and looked up.  She wondered who was bothering her now.  She had a nice comfy spot in front of the fireplace at the Crown and Lion, and the dwarven barkeep had kept the drinks coming.  No one had bothered her, and she had bothered no one, her cloak’s hood drawn close around her face as she drank quietly and steadily.

She looked up, and up, and up some more, until she met ice blue eyes.  She couldn’t read any emotion in particular in the craggy face above her, but the hand that grasped her elbow was firm and surprisingly gentle.

“What?” she asked.  She kept her voice down and level. 

“You’ve had enough.”

She managed a crooked grin.  “More than enough, and not _nearly_ enough.  At the same time.  _And_ simultaneously.”  She let her second draw her to her feet, though, and out into the open air.

She stumbled a little on some uneven cobbles, and chuckled, leaning companionably against the solid, dependable walking wall beside her.  “Did you know you’re very tall?”

“I hadn’t noticed.”  His voice was gruff, but the tone low and even.  “Did you know you’re very drunk?”

“Hm.  I hadn’t noticed.”  She grinned as she caught herself weaving slightly.  “We should be very quiet… it’s late.  Wouldn’t want to wake everyone.”

“Too true.”

* * *

 

 

He’d hustled her quickly enough out of the city, and up into Traveler’s saddle, pulling himself up behind her.  Risa leaned back against Loghain’s chest, her head against his right shoulder.  She gave him a grin as the horse began to walk on.

“You smell good,” she said with a chuckle.

“Do I.”

She nodded.  “Like leather and good, clean earth,” she said, her eyes slipping shut.  Her head jerked back and she frowned a little.  “Hey… was I sleeping?”

“Not yet.”  The horse continued to walk on slowly and steadily, and she found herself swaying gently in the saddle,  Loghain’s strong arms to either side of her, his solid bulk behind her.  She managed to look up at him once more, a goofy grin taking over her face.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked.  When she didn’t answer but continued grinning, he simply shrugged.

“S’funny,” she said, her eyes twinkling with merriment.  “Just never thought I’d find myself in Loghain Mac Tir’s arms.”  She squirmed, settling herself more comfortably within the circle of his arms.

“Risa,” he said quietly.

She didn’t answer.

“ _Risa_.”

Her head fell back against his bicep.

“Ree—“

A soft snore was all the answer he got, and with a snort, he guided Traveler home.

 

 

 

 

 


	28. You're All Right

_At least_ , Loghain thought as he rode slowly back to Vigil’s Keep with Risa riding before him in the saddle, _she was a surprisingly discreet and pleasantly tempered drunk_.  Not happy, necessarily – but not violent, loud or belligerent. 

Their raven-haired commander was currently snoring quietly in his arms, lulled asleep by the combination of copious amounts of alcohol and the slow sway of his warhorse’s walk.  She was seated before him on the saddle, leaning back against his broad chest, her head leaning against his right shoulder.   He could feel the warmth of her body seeping through his leather, and had drawn his cloak around them both.

Curious, the last thing she’d said before falling asleep… “ _S’funny.  Just never thought I’d find myself in Loghain Mac Tir’s arms.”_   Had she thought of it before, he wondered, looking down at her face, the habitual tension smoothed out in sleep.    She was not, perhaps, built along the lines of what humans considered the classic beauty – her features a bit broader, her body stockier – but there was a strength and confidence that made her very appealing to him indeed.

If he were looking for that sort of thing.

Which he was _not_.

He was concerned, a bit, by her having left the keep to get drunk… more by _that,_  actually than the fact of her having _gotten_ drunk.  But even well into her cups she had not drawn attention to herself or to the Wardens.  He’d not have known she was at the Crown and Lion had Oghren not let him know she’d walked out of the keep in a huff, and even when he spotted her – she was alone, cloaked, and quietly putting the drinks away.  Nothing she was doing was really worthy of anyone’s attention, and he doubted anyone recognized her as their Arlessa – or that she was getting smashed.

He wondered what had triggered it.  It had been some months since he’d seen her fall prey to her darker moods.  She certainly hadn’t spoken to Maric’s bastard nor received any letters from him as far as he was aware.

Then again, he HAD brought up Orzammar as they watched the sunrise.  He didn’t know much about why she preferred to stay away from the place, especially now that she was officially a Paragon.  She seemed somehow to prefer non-Dwarven company.  He thought it might be because of the way they all gasped and acted as if she were a god of some sort… perhaps he had read the situation wrongly at that.

And was she actually flirting with him, he wondered.  She’d observed he was tall… true enough, and obvious enough that it seemed an odd thing to bring to his attention.  Then going on about how he smelled good – that certainly was nothing he’d heard before.

Maybe it was just the drink taking the curb off her tongue and leading her to say whatever fool thing came into her head.

Maybe it was something more?

As Traveler passed the bailey and drew to a languid stop just outside of the stables, Loghain took a moment to figure out how he was going to get them both off the horse in one piece.  Sighing, he nudged her.

“Risa, wake up.”

Her eyes opened, and she looked up into his eyes with confusion, and her frown of intense concentration deepened the lines in her face.

“We’re at the Keep.  I need you to dismount.  Can you stand?”

She looked irritated then.  “’Course I can stand.”  Carefully, she swung her leg forward over the front of the saddle, then slid down Traveler’s left side to land unsteadily next to him.  The horse tossed his head a bit, and Risa reached up and took the reins, letting Loghain dismount a bit more decorously.

Normally, he’d had seen to Traveler himself, but given Risa’s unsteadiness, he handed the reins to a sleepy stablehand and escorted her into the Keep himself. 

It was quiet in the hallway as he walked her to her quarters; her door was open and it was simple enough to hustle her in through the sitting room area.  “Can you make it from here?”

She nodded blearily, and stumbled into the room.   She headed for the bed and on getting there, simply flopped onto it without delay.

With a sigh, he entered after her.  He tugged off the soft shoes – muddy and mucky now (they’d never been designed to actually be walked in outdoors) and rolled her more fully onto the bed, then tugged a blanket over her, clothes and all.  He also place the chamberpot directly next to the bed – lord knew, she’d probably wake with her stomach in rebellion.

As he straightened up, turning to leave, Risa mumbled something.

“Pardon?”

“You’re all right,” she repeated, flinging an arm over her eyes and turning away from the lantern, turning her back to him.  “’Least _you_ have the decency to leave me _before_ making me love you.”

Loghain paused a moment, his eyes on the graceful curve of her spine, before he walked away.

 


	29. Hung Over

Risa's eyes snapped open, her stomach roiling, and she rolled to her left, desperately trying to get clear of the bedding before she fouled it. As her feet hit the ground she saw the chamberpot and she fell to her knees beside it, retching violently.

 _Good going_ , she thought as she knelt there waiting for the next spasm to hit. _The last time you felt this bad was after the Joining._

She finished emptying her stomach, then rinsed her mouth from the water jug on her side table. With a groan, she covered the pot and took it to be dumped.

The world was horribly loud and bright, and her head seemed fit to burst. She couldn't complain though… _wouldn't_ complain. This, she'd brought upon herself.

She had just dumped the contents of the chamberpot when Anders appeared in the bailey, whistling cheerfully. The sound made Risa want to kill either him or herself – at this point, she didn't care which.

Anders froze, looking at her, and Risa looked away, starting to head grimly back into the Keep. Whatever that look was – shock, pity, or worse still, _concern_ , she wasn't going to be able to handle it on this stomach.

"Commander…"

Risa winced. "Can it wait, Anders?" she asked, continuing up the steps. "Not in the mood."

* * *

Oghren came by her office later and looked in. He blessedly said nothing – simply dropped a large skin of something on her desk before walking out.

"Drink that," he said, "you'll thank me for it later."

When the pain in her head and her nausea became too annoying to bear, she uncapped the skin and drank.

It was water. But _Ancestors_ , it tasted good.

* * *

Later, from her high backed seat in the main hall, she had listened to her Wardens' reports on their patrols, Garavel's on her guardsmen's being spread dangerously thin, and Varel's on the running of the keep. Her head had threatened to split in two, but she'd stood there stoically, made her recommendations, and dismissed them. She didn't miss Nathaniel's speculative look, or Sigrun's shrug. She wondered at Loghain's absence, however.

Anders lingered, and approached her in a brisk, businesslike way. "All right, Commander, have a seat."

"Anders, not now," she said warningly.

"No, _right_ now." He shook his head. "There is absolutely no reason you should be soldiering on when you're sick as a dog. Now sit, and let me heal you."

" _Anders_." It was an irritated growl.

"Sit," he insisted. "You're in charge of this merry band of misfits, and if the darkspawn come boiling up out of the basement again I'd feel a lot more confident if you were at your belligerent and deadly best."

She rolled her eyes, but let him put his hands on her. Wave after wave of blue white light gently washed over her, and she looked up at Anders warily. For once the healer's face was not set in its teasing and suggestive grin – he looked as if he were concentrating mightily.

"Maker's arse," he chided when he finally broke away from her, "there are easier ways to kill yourself than to drive your liver to armed rebellion."

The relief from her pounding head and roiling stomach were welcome indeed. "Noted," she said gruffly.

* * *

Risa was beginning to curse her open door policy when Sigrun came by. "Hey, Commander, got a minute?"

Risa sighed and pushed her paperwork aside. "Come in, Sigrun."

Sigrun came in and sat on a low bench. "So… Commander... how you doing?"

Risa sighed. "Sigrun…."

"Because honestly, this morning you looked like shit, and you still have a puss like a bronto's back end."

"Is there a point to all this?" Risa asked impatiently.

Sigrun leaned forward, "Well, yeah," she said in a cheeky tone that seemed to imply she thought Risa was being a spectacularly backward child. "You're always checking to see how we're doing – don't try to lie, I know you sat up with me after the joining – but I get the feeling no one much looks after you."

"I'm…"

"Not suffering the hangover of all hangovers anymore, yeah, I noticed. That Anders is pretty handy to have around, isn't he?" Sigrun grinned. "And pretty easy on the eyes, even for a cloud-head…"

Risa snorted.

"Well how about that Nathaniel. Man's a world-class brooder, it's true, but wow, those eyes and you don't generally see humans with that kind of upper body strength and toning…"

Risa scoffed. "Sigrun…"

"Well… if you want to stick to the familiar, I SUPPOSE there's Oghren…" Even Sigrun looked a little hesitant about that suggestion.

"Why are you trying to pair me off with my Wardens?" Risa asked impatiently.

"Well, come on, Commander… who else is gonna understand you better than a fellow warden, and…"

"No."

Sigrun kept right on going, "…maybe if you spent some time talking with them, you know, socializing…."

"No."

"…maybe you wouldn't be getting drunk off your ass in town and worrying the hell out of the rest of us."

Risa stood. "And maybe," she said quietly, "if I had been able to get some sleep last night rather than having to listen to some tall, blond tomcat yowling his release loud enough to shake the keep foundations to parapet, and _then_ had my brandy taken from me by the sole survivor of House Kondrat, maybe I _wouldn't_ have gone to town to get drunk off my ass."

Sigrun went red and very quiet for a moment. "Oh," she said faintly, and Risa suddenly got a fairly good idea of who Anders had been with the previous night.

 _Oops_ , Risa thought.

"But still, Commander…"

Risa shook her head. "I've had enough of letting men get close enough to… of being distracted from my duty by irrelevancies." She got up and started to pace.

Sigrun shrugged. "So… you don't like men…."

"I like them just fine. At arm's length."

"That's not what it looked like last night…."

Risa whirled, glaring at the Legionnaire. "Excuse me."

"When you returned to the Keep with…."

Risa's cheeks burned – she wasn't sure if it were anger or humiliation, or... "Warden Loghain accompanied me back from Amaranthine – no more, no less. He, he's my second in command and quite frankly, went out of his way to see me back safely…."

Sigrun sighed. "So you don't trust him either."

Risa came nearly nose to nose with Sigrun. "As my second: with my life, like all of you. Sigrun - you've lived in Orzammar - when politics or position or getting more coin is involved, betrayal's bred to the bone! How can you stand there and ask me about trust!" She pulled herself away, going to stare into the flames.

"You hafta trust _someone_ , Commander…."

"I do," Risa said bitterly. "Myself." She glanced at Sigrun. "Maybe you… once we know each other."

"Comm… Risa. It can't be that bad. Unless…." Sigrun looked at her speculatively. "Unless you, ah, prefer girls?"

Risa shook her head sharply. "No. No, my tastes don't lie in that direction." She looked at Sigrun. "Maybe it's different outside of the Diamond Quarter, " she said, politely not mentioning that Sigrun had grown up not even in the Commons but in Dusttown. "Men… it's not a matter of _if_ they'll betray you..."

Sigrun looked at her. "You don't really mean that."

Risa snorted. "You mean to say you expect Anders won't chase the next pretty tail he sees?"

Sigrun laughed. "You mean to say you expect _I_ won't?"

Risa looked back into the fire. "My _older_ brother suspected me of angling to usurp his position," she explained softly, in a voice rich with hurt. "My _middle_ brother murdered him and placed the blame on me. My _father_ turned his back and exiled me without so much as having a hearing to establish my guilt _to avoid scandal._ Not _even_ because he actually thought I would do it, but because the whole sordid mess _made our house look bad_ and he wanted it buried, gone.  And he.. he wrote me an letter of _apology_!" She turned back to Sigrun. "My _first love_ had his one and only... assignation with me in a filthy prison cell, reiterated his love for me, told me how to escape the Deep Roads with my life intact if not my honor, and swore that he'd wait for me in Denerim.  Then he married some surfacer smith's daughter first chance he got -- and his excuse was that 'we both knew' it couldn't last because I was a princess.... _Ancestors_ , on the surface, we'd have been free of all that!  _Both casteles_ s!"  She turned away, her face to the wall, fighting to push down emotions long left bottled up, her breath hitching as she tried to calm.   "And my last love…." She choked, her whole body tense and shaking like a bow-string held too long.

Sigrun stole over to Risa's side. "So the way you see it, there's two kinds of men in the world – those who've already betrayed you… and those who will."

Risa's voice was thick, but she managed to speak somehow. "My skull's thick, and I'm stubborn as the Void… but some lessons even _I_ can learn."

Sigrun shook her head, then squeezed Risa's hand comfortingly as a rather large shadow eased away from the doorway.


	30. Promises

Anders had never been the quietest of their merry little band, but he was absolutely vibrating with nervousness as they walked through Amaranthine.  “My, uh, my contact… she, uh, was supposed to meet me just past the Crown and Lion… the Templars, though… they kind of delayed me, so I hope she’s still there….  They thought I was trying to board a ship to the Free Marches, but really, I was only coming here to meet her….”

“Either she will be present, or she won’t,” Loghain said curtly.

“We’ll hope for ‘present’,” Risa added.  “It would be nice for _something_ to be simple for once.”

Loghain merely shrugged, and kept pace with her, Anders, and Howe.

Risa looked up at him, but said nothing.  He’d been unchanged towards the rest of the Wardens, but she noticed he was keeping a very polite distance from her.  Nothing he said to her could be rightly construed as cold or disrespectful, but some of the more… collegial comments she’d enjoyed with him seemed greatly reduced or even missing altogether.  She was unsure of why that should be, and frowned to herself,  Something to discuss in private, she suspected.

 _If_ he would discuss it.

“Namaya!”  Anders rushed ahead of the group toward a woman standing under a tree ahead of them, eliciting a huff of disgust from Howe.  Risa shrugged.

“Flighty blond,” Howe snorted.

Risa really couldn’t disagree.

Anders’ contact, an elf, also blonde, didn’t seem flighty in the _least_.  “Yes, well, unlike _some_ people, I KEEP my promises,” she was saying hotly, poking at Anders’ chest.  “So here I am.”

“Um, yes, here you are!”  He grinned disarmingly, but it didn’t seem to be working.

Namaya turned to Risa, frowning.  “He’s very charming – but don’t believe a word he says,” she grumbled.  “He’s really good at talking people into things – no doubt as he’s talked you into helping with his phylactery.”

Risa and Loghain gave Anders the same expectant look.

Namaya snorted.  “Typical.”  She turned back to Anders.  “I found what you were looking for – but I’m telling you now – after _this_ , we’re quits.  If you get in trouble, it’s your own ass – don’t ask me to help.”

“I understand,” he said, “and thanks.”

Namaya shook her head.  “You were right.  Your phylactery WAS moved here during the Blight year, for safe keeping.  There’s an old warehouse near the front of the merchant district – that’s where they moved it.”  She walked past Anders and the group.  “I hope you get it.”

Risa watched her retreat for a few moments.  “So… _friend_ of yours?” 

Anders grinned sheepishly.  “She, um, may have had some had some differing expectations…”

“Charming,” Loghain said dryly.  “I’m sure you did not allow her to continue in these… _differing expectations_ for long….”

Anders shrugged.  “She knew I was an apostate on the run, and I never promised anything.”

Loghain gave him a withering look. “A wiser head than mine once observed that spoken or silent, there is a promise made in any bed[[i]](../../../../../../undefined//works/642359/chapters/1265016#_edn1).  Should you not want to keep it, better never to make it.”

Risa glanced up at Loghain with surprise, but her taciturn Warden Constable seemed to have said his piece.  Shrugging, she addressed Anders.  “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

He nodded.  “Yeah, I do.  Namaya never lied to me….”

“Well,” Howe grunted, “this should be an interesting side trip.”

* * *

 

Getting into the warehouse was easy enough – a bit too easy, to Risa’s thinking.  The lock was only a moment’s work to get through, and there were no guards near the place – odd, if something as critically important as mage’s leashes were stored there.

“Unless… they figured that posting a guard would tip people off there was something important here?”  Anders was muttering nervously.

“Place seems empty,” Risa said quietly, looking about.  “Check the boxes in this room – then we’ll work our way back.”

Howe gave Risa a look, and she nodded back grimly.  _He doesn’t like this any more than I do,_ she realized.

“Nothing here,” Anders huffed in disappointment.  “Come on, let’s check out the back…”

As he hurried forward, Risa slipped in front of him through the doorway.  Something didn’t feel right.

“Ah.  And here I almost believed the infamous Anders wouldn’t take the bait.”  There were three Templars in the room, and the one in the lead was….

 _Rylock_.  Risa’s lips thinned out to a hard line.

“I suppose I should have known it would be you,” Anders snarked back.

“You made a poor choice with this one, Commander,” Rylock said.  “Anders will never submit – not to us, and not to you.”

“And that choice is no longer your business,” Risa snapped.  “Besides – he’s made a fine Grey Warden so far.  Might have something to do with treating him like a person rather than a possession – or trained mabari.”

Rylock’s eyes narrowed.  “I’ll make sure this murderer is no longer a bother to anyone ever again.”

Loghain’s eyes narrowed.  “Forgive me, but Anders is now a Grey Warden – out of your jurisdiction, Templar.  You _cannot_ arrest him.”

“King Alistair _himself_ allowed it,” Anders added.

“The Chantry’s authority supersedes the Crown in this matter….” Rylock began angrily.

“…and the treaties signed by the Chantry and Crown alike recognize that Grey Warden matters supersede _all_ ,” Risa snarled.  “So hike up your skirts and run back to the Chantry – and ask the Revered Mother to explain it to you in words of two syllables or less, if necessary.”

Loghain snorted beside Risa.

“You cannot hide within the Grey Warden’s ranks,” Rylock continued as if Risa had never spoken. 

“ _Down here_ ,” Risa growled.  “Yes, he can, and yes, he WILL.  He stays with US.”

“Hardly surprising.  The Grey Wardens have _ever_ been a haven for criminals and maleficar,” Rylock sneered.

Risa glaced again at Loghain – what the templar was saying was eerily reminiscent of his own comments on the Wardens before his own Joining.  Loghain’s eyes were narrowed now, and his arms crossed across his chest – discreetly close enough for him to reach back and draw his sword if necessary.

“I do not know how you inspire such loyalty, Anders, but it will avail you naught.  Now, you come with us.”

Before Risa had a chance to move, one of the Templars threw back his head and arms, and a bolt of blue smashed into Anders, knocking him to the ground with a cry.  Risa slammed her shoulder into Rylock, staggering her back even as she heard Loghain’s sword sing as he pulled it from its scabbard.

Rylock tried to get her sword around to cut at Risa, but the dwarf rogue danced in close and jammed her dagger in under Rylock’s armpit.  The Templar gasped and clouted Risa across the head, then backed away, blood leaking down the side of the armor.  Risa fell heavily next to Anders, then scrambled to her feet.

Loghain’s shield bashed the third templar against the wall, knocking him cold, as Howe dispatched the second with an arrow through the eyeslit.  When he saw Rylock reverse her grip on her sword to stab down through Risa’s back, Loghain roared with rage and ran the templar through.

Risa hauled Anders to his feet, her head ringing and blood streaming down her face.  “You ok?”

Ander groaned, “Maker, I HATE Holy Smite….”

Nathaniel looked at the templar Loghain had knocked cold.  “What do we do with him?”

Risa’s eyes narrowed.  “We could slit his throat.”

Loghain snorted.  “Satisfying, but do we intend to go to war against the Chantry?”

“Well, if he goes back, he’ll no doubt have some story about how _we_ jumped _them_.  And as Arlessa, I have no authority to arrest him….”

“We can certainly escort him back to the Chantry and reacquaint the Revered Mother with the Right of Conscription.”  He shrugged.  “And if they continue to attack, we can continue to send them back feet first.”

* * *

 

Later, Risa went down to the small nook off the kitchens to get something to eat.  She wasn’t in the mood to dine with the soldiers and Wardens, nor was she looking forward to another meal alone in her sitting room.

On her way to the nook, she snagged a bottle of red wine from a rack.  She could smell lamb, and a hearty red would go well with the evening’s offering.

She turned in toward the rough worktable in the nook and realized that Loghain was already seated there, eating his stew.  He paused for a moment to regard her, as she stopped in her tracks for a moment.  Then without a word he inclined his head toward the empty seat opposite himself, and Risa put the bottle on the table, then ladled herself out a plate as he poured.

They ate in silence for a few minutes – although that didn’t feel as odd as when they were apart.  They often had spent time with each other without the need for chatter.

“Thank you,” Risa said quietly.

“What for?” Loghain asked mildly.

“The other night.  Retrieving me from Amaranthine.”  She took a sip of wine, not meeting his eyes.  “I… you went above and beyond the call of duty.  Babysitting me is not within your list of responsibilities.”

“No,” he allowed, “it isn’t.”

She addressed herself to her stew, keeping her face carefully neutral.  This wasn’t going well….

“Risa.”

She looked up, her onyx eyes meeting his icy ones with surprise.

“I can hardly be called a paragon of virtue,” he said gruffly, holding her gaze.  “I _had_ hoped one thing was clear between us, however.”

She regarded him, her spoon half between bowl and mouth.

“I do not make promises lightly, and I do _not_ make promises I don’t intend to keep.”

Risa searched his face, but Loghain broke the gaze and began to eat again. 

After a moment, she passed him the bread basket and went back to eating in an easier, more companionable silence.

 

 

 

* * *

 

[[i]](../../../../../../undefined//works/642359/chapters/1265016#_ednref1) And of course, that’s paraphrased from Act II of _The Crucible_ by Arthur Miller.

_ELIZABETH, _delicately:_ John-grant me this. You have a faulty understanding of young girls. There is a promise made in any bed-  
PROCTOR, _striving against his anger:_ What promise!  
ELIZABETH: Spoke or silent, a promise is surely made. _


	31. Alone in a Crowd

_She's younger, even, than Anora. And while my daughter is quite ably running Ferelden, even saddled with Maric's bastard, I have to admit that Risa Aeducan probably has the more difficult job._

_It's not made easier by the band of misfits she's had to conscript and recruit to bolster the ranks of her Grey Wardens, that's for certain. Her so-called Blight Companions for all their faults were a cohesive group, and if in the end they did not like her, they respected her. But her Wardens?_

_Well, the first of them was I, of course – conscripted on the eve of the battle for Denerim. She claimed she spared me simply because she was honor-bound not to murder me when I surrendered to her… but the more I learn of her, the more convinced I am that she had another motive. And no, I don't mean that she meant me to die in her place or in… the king's._

_Risa lost_ everything _that gave her joy – a title, her brothers (yes, I know she even mourns the treacherous bastard who engineered her downfall), her home, her lovers… and her father. It pains her that he died when she was far from home and that they could not be reconciled, and there was a look that passed – a glance, really, past her furious lover, past me, right to Anora. And in that look was wearied horror at the thought of murdering me right before my daughter's eyes._

_I'll admit that I was prepared to die – I could have done it with dignity, knowing that Ferelden was left in Risa's capable hands. But I did not want Anora to have to witness it – and I knew Anora would never leave my side._

_I am grateful that Risa spared us both._

_Simple decency, and compassion – though she could not admit that, probably not even to herself. She certainly couldn't explain it to Theirin, who was raging about Duncan's death – a surrogate father to him, so it would seem. And though on the floor of the Landsmeet she was as cool and collected as you'd expect the commander of armies to be, what occurred afterwards showed a different side to her._

_The chamber in which that Orlesian bastard Riordan was preparing me for the Joining was directly across the hall from the room in which  Aeducan and Theirin retreated to have it out. He was livid, and clearly ungrateful to be marrying my daughter but determined to do it and become king._

_I heard the death knell of any fond feelings between them. She pleaded with him to understand; he abused her verbally and wished her dead. She responded with a dignity beyond her years, and with advice that he would do well to heed, and then she left him to attend to my Joining. I saw it in her eyes the moment she stepped into the room – the lively look she had, the confidence – the former was gone, the later banked low, and her face was tight with grief._

_She fully intended to kill the Archdemon and die in the process. She confessed that to me later, rather matter-of-factly. There was nothing left for her but honor and duty, she told me, and she'd had the one stripped from her and the other would end with the tainted God's death._

_It would have been a terrible waste._

_The swamp witch presented me with a demon's bargain that night. I accepted, knowing the consequences will someday come to light, and I pray when it does I can set them right. But I spared Risa's life as surely as she spared mine. I don't know if she would thank me for it; I only know that I owed it to her, and that Thedas still needs her._

_She intended to save my life a second time, when she plotted against me with the Qunari, Sten. I had told her I would sacrifice myself to kill the Archdemon; she was young and had her whole life ahead of her. So once we had beaten that fearsome thing so that it could no longer stand, and it was time to make an end of it, the Qunari had come out of nowhere and slammed me, stunned, to the rooftop. And she, sly little thing, had stabbed me and left me, unconscious, while she faced that nightmare alone._

_Thank the Maker the swamp witch spoke true. We both descended from the tower, beaten, battered, but alive. There was a bad moment when Theirin thought he would carry her down from that abattoir, and I would cheerfully have committed regicide – and then the Sten told us both to sod off and carried her himself, as reverently as some holy treasure – down to the healers._

_When Risa was shuffled off to Amaranthine months later, with her titles and honors and, of course, the unvoiced expectation that she'd stay there and never show her face in Denerim, she did me another great service: demanding I come with her. To be free of Maric's bastard and not paraded about Denerim as the Traitor Redeemed was yet another debt I can never repay._

_Her first three candidates for the big drink of death were that ridiculous drunk of a dwarf, Oghren, that annoying apostate healer, and a young guardswoman. I don't know what she would have done had Oghren not survived – as Blight Companions, I believe they regard each other as brother and sister – well, perhaps even closer than that, given her relationship with her own siblings. He and the mage survived; the guardswoman, whom I would have thought the best suited to the Wardens, died choking on the taint._

_She has a remarkable record, really – myself, Oghren, Anders, Howe and now Sigrun – and only one death. As per usual, she's beaten the odds and done the impossible._

_I am concerned about the toll it's taken on her, though. She'd never abused drink the way she did this week – nor has she been stubbornly stupid enough to refuse healing. I suppose the most difficult part to hear was how much her basic faith in others has been shattered to the point that betrayal and abandonment are all she expects of any she lets get too close._

_There are those in this merry band of misfits who would follow that woman into the Void itself; I only hope she can see it someday._


	32. Royal Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Queen sends word that she's making a royal visit.

"This," Risa Aeducan breathed as she reread the parchment in her hands, "is going to be a logistical nightmare."

* * *

Loghain came in from a three day patrol with Sigrun and Anders in the Knotwood Hills, and was more than ready for a few hours of peace and quiet. Neither the cheerful dwarf nor the mage ever seemed to shut up, and while at least the dwarf's chatter was interesting, nearly everything the mage said was a smartass remark or hitting on the dwarf.

The past two days, Loghain noted with grim amusement, definitely placed being made a Grey Warden squarely into the "punishment" category in his mind.

"Anders: first of all, I am not attracted to humans – not even 'devilishly good looking" ones whose skills in bed would "make the earth move" for me. Secondly, I'm not going to have sex with someone who sees me naked on a regular basis for professional reasons. Thirdly – just _no_." Sigrun delivered this all with a huge smile and laughed as Anders clutched his heart theatrically and staggered.

"Ugh! I knew it, you're into tall, dark and broody archers – with that shot in my heart, you must be taking lessons from Howe!" His dramatic stagger turned into a true stumble, and he bumped Loghain's shoulder. The larger man steadied Anders with a hand on his elbow for a second, and a muttered "young idiot" that wasn't nearly as harsh as the words suggested.

It was then that Loghain noticed the bailey was full of rather frenetic activity. There was the normal bustle of guard practice – and then there were servants rushing back and forth.

Loghain stepped away from the young mage, and started striding purposefully towards the keep. He had no doubt that Risa would be at the center of this maelstrom.

* * *

"I don't care WHO has to get down on hands and knees and scrub that suite out," Risa was saying to Varel. "Have a private bring a scrub brush and bucket up there and _I'll_ do it, but it must be done!"

"Commander…" Varel started, then looked relieved to see Loghain coming through the door. "There just isn't…."

Risa snorted. "Then make MY rooms ready, and I'll go bunk with the recruits – it's not like I've never slept in a crowd before."

"What is all this bustle?" Loghain demanded.

Risa looked up at him, expression solemn but her eyes twinkling. "Just fine, thank you, Warden, and how are you and your men? Patrol go well?"

Loghain snorted. "What's all the fuss?"

"Commander," Varel tried once more.

"See that it's done, Varel," Risa said, then inclining her head, walked past Loghain, who followed.

"Risa…." he began.

"I am sure you will be pleased to know that Good King Alistair will be busy receiving ambassadors from Nevarra and the Anderfels next week," Risa said, "with an eye, I'm sure, towards isolating _your favoritest nation ever_ between three rather large and and less than accommodating nations."

"So he's not a complete idiot," Loghain said approvingly, while Risa growled.

"Apparently, the Queen – your daughter – has decided that this would be the perfect time to visit us here, in Amaranthine," Risa snorted.

Loghain considered that for a few moments. "Relations between Ferelden, Nevarra and the Anderfels are fairly good – I can't see that there's anything even _he_ could do to ruin that… still, it seems odd for Anora to choose to leave Denerim at such a time."

"Odd or no, here she comes and here she'll stay." Risa nodded sharply. "Come. We'll need to house her and her entourage properly – you and I shall select rooms appropriate for such a visit and easily defensible."

Loghain nodded.

Risa looked at him. "If none else will suit, my suite will do, so long as we move Anders off the wing."

Loghain looked at her sharply. "Anora would not be amused by his advances, should he be so incautious as to offer them…."

"I doubt he would… but from experience I will say he is not one to hold back when he is… slaking his appetites."

Loghain merely stared.

"Loud enough to wake the Fade," she clarified.

" _Maker's balls_ ," Loghain snorted, shaking his head.


	33. Heart of the Matter

" _ **By the tits of my Ancestors!**_ " Oghren roared. "She's coming **_here?_** "

Risa didn't even react to the warrior's profanity – it was so fundamentally a Dwarven response that it needed no comment. "Yes, here."

"After her lies about bein' kidnapped ended up with you being tortured and beaten and…"

"Yes." Risa said sharply. She didn't want to revisit it; she had both the physical and mental scars to show for it from that experience.

"Commander, are you sure that's wise?" Howe asked – as always, a calm voice of reason that cut directly to the heart of the matter. "There's bad blood between you and the queen on a number of levels – if something were to happen to her while she were here…"

Risa nodded. "I am aware. I am _also_ well aware that if I refuse a royal request, that could also be my head." She quirked a humorless smile. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't. Welcome to another day of politics as usual in sunny Orzammar."

Sigrun and Oghren both snorted with amusement, and even her taciturn second, Loghain, seemed to see the humor.

Risa turned to him. "Obviously, we'll all greet Her Majesty on her arrival. I would imagine that after she's had some time to rest and have some refreshments, she might like some time to speak with you."

"Perhaps," he allowed. As usual, Loghain was playing his cards close to his vest, and Risa didn't push. There was time to speak in private about this.

"Where are we going to house them?" Anders asked.

Oghren snorted. "How about the dungeon? It's secure, easily defensible, and there's a certain kinda symmetry to it."

Risa bit the inside of her lip hard to keep from smiling. "Not appropriate housing for the Queen, no."

"The tower, maybe?" Oghren pressed.

"I'm certain Varel will find appropriate rooms," Loghain said curtly, "and we would do well to speak of our Queen with the proper respect and decorum."

Risa raised an eyebrow at him, but merely commented, "Indeed."

* * *

"The tower actually _wouldn_ 't be a bad choice," Risa said, walking alongside Loghain on the battlements, "were it not for the fact that it might look altogether too much like we meant to _confine_ her as prisoner rather than _protect_ her as monarch."

"You seem very sanguine about her visit here." Loghain stopped and turned toward Risa. "Tell me: what are your thoughts on the matter?"

Risa frowned. "I'd be lying if I told you I was confident everything was all right. The timing worries me – leaving Denerim and the King when important ambassadors are about. Is it merely taking advantage of the timing to see her father without the King interfering? Does she wish to remind me that I am Arlessa here at her whim, and that if we Wardens do not suit her, we will find ourselves _personae non gratae_? Is she sick of her husband and in need of some time away?" Her onyx eyes were flat with worry. "What do you think her motives are in coming here?"

"I don't know." He looked down into Risa's face, and sighed. "Maker knows, I wish I did. As uncharitable as it might sound, as much as I love my daughter and am fiercely proud of her, we'd be wise to recall that she does _nothing_ without reason, and that whatever purpose draws her here will be one that brings _her_ gain."

Risa leaned against the wall overlooking the bailey, and sighed. "Do you _wish_ to see her? Or should I find need to send you on patrol?"

" _Maker's breath_ , as if three days with that idiot mage and the cheerful Duster of Death were not enough." he snorted.

"I _could_ send you out with Howe and Oghren. The three broodiest Wardens on Thedas…" She quirked a half smile at him. "Likely you'd all end up killing each other, or drunk and disorderly."

"And are you so eager to get rid of me, Dwarf?" he asked lightly, turning away from the view of the courtyard and fixing her with a piercing gaze.

Risa grinned, and opened her mouth to answer when her eyes met his and their gazes locked. The smile on her face faded slowly, and she frowned slightly, taking a small step back. There was an odd look in her eyes, and he noticed the furrow in her brow deepen as she considered his question.

_Intriguing_.

He took a step toward her, and she looked aside hurriedly, looking back out over the bailey – but glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "No," she said quietly. "No… I don't suppose I am at that." She turned and looked him full in the eyes again, and something of her teasing nature came back – but it felt… slightly forced, perhaps, he decided.

"I've gone through so much trouble to get you and keep you here," she said. "Be a shame to have wasted so much effort…"

"Hands where I can see them, if you please, Commander," he said gruffly, letting the merest trace of amusement crinkle the crow's feet at the corner of his eyes. "I've no interest in having you knock me out with one of your potions again…."

He took another step toward her, and she didn't fall back… merely looked up into his eyes searchingly.

He turned away, and started walking back the way they had come. "All you need do is ask me to stay."


	34. Heartless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anora makes her presence known at Vigil's Keep.

Risa stood shifting uncomfortably in the sun, waiting for Anora and her entourage to arrive at Vigil's Keep.

She knew Nathaniel was up on the wall with the Keep's archers, watching the road to make sure it was clear… with his sharp eyesight, they'd know if anything were amiss.

"So. The Queen this time, eh?" Anders said at Risa's right. "Um, so… does she like you better or worse than the King does?"

Risa shrugged. "Probably about the same," she said.

"Oh." Anders looked like he'd rather be _anywhere_ else.

Risa gave him a steadying pat on the elbow. "Remember: Warden Anders of the Grey. You're no apostate, you're not of the tower. Anders of the Grey."

"Right…." He took a breath, exhaled. "Right."

A piercing whistle came from above, and Risa looked up. Nathaniel pointed down the road.

"Showtime," Risa murmured, as her wardens straightened their lines.

* * *

By the time Anora and her entourage arrived, Risa and Loghain were standing at a comfortable parade rest, with their own honor guard ready to receive the queen. As soon as Anora reached the proper distance according to protocol, Risa took a knee, with Loghain following an instant behind. "Your Majesty," Risa said, "Welcome."

"Rise, Grey Wardens." Anora stood before them, and if her demeanor wasn't warm, it was at least respectful… better than Risa had expected, to be honest.

Risa smiled. "You must be weary after your long trip, Majesty. We have prepared some light refreshments – or would you rather be shown to your room to relax?"

"I would rather have the grand tour, if you please," Anora said. "I'd like to know what improvements have been made here since _my husband_ was last here."

Risa shot a glance at Loghain even as she assented with a murmured, "Of course." She couldn't help but hear the emphasis placed on those two words, and hoped they did not mean trouble for her.

* * *

After they had toured the grounds, Risa had managed to gently direct the Queen and her companion, Erlina, to her sitting room, where some light refreshments were being served. The rest of the Wardens were only too glad to be excused, leaving the queen and her handmaiden facing Risa and Loghain over the table.

"You're looking well," Anora observed of her father.

"Yes. Being kept busy with useful work suits me," he rumbled.

Risa smiled, and said quietly, "He has been teaching the Arling's Guardsmen to fly, of late."

"Fly?" Anora said.

"With his shield. Your father is training up the guard into something a bit more effective." Risa nodded. "He is an immense help to me."

"I'm sure," Anora said coolly.

The tension was turning the tenor of this meeting rather ugly.  Risa was presenting her stony neutral facade, but Loghain could feel through the connection of their tainted blood that with each dismissive answer, she was seething inside.  "To what do we owe the pleasure, daughter?" Loghain asked wearily, trying to redirect the conversation before Risa lost her patience and spoke in haste.

"Must there be a reason for me to wish to see my father? It's been nearly a year," Anora chided.

"I beg your pardon, then," Loghain said.  He addressed himself to his meal, knowing that Anora would get around to whatever it was she wished to say in her own good time.  With relief, he saw that Risa had picked up her flatware and begun to eat as well.

"I also bring news," Anora said after a few minute's silence. Risa and Loghain both looked up at this, without comment.

"Father," Anora said, leaning across the table and placing her small hand on his large one. She shot Risa a look as well – one which the Dwarf couldn't interpret. "Do you remember carving a chair for me when I was very young?"

Loghain nodded once. "Yes, before you could even sit up unaided," he said. "Why?"

"I should like you to do the same for your grandchild."

Risa went very still for a moment, even as her face paled. She did manage to murmur her congratulations. _I had no idea it would still have this much effect on me,_ she thought, fighting to keep her breathing steady.

"This is good news," Loghain said quietly. "Just what Ferelden needs to unite her."

Anora fixed Risa with a sharp look. "Yes. How lucky that there aren't any byblows to worry about."

Risa looked Anora in the eye, and managed to speak with only the slightest edge in her voice.. "Very… fortunate."

"I should think _you_ would think this good news," Anora said. "I know you had been told that children were impossible – and now there is proof this is not so. _You_ may be blessed with children of your own." A hint of a smile played about her lips.

"Anora." There was warning in Loghain's tone.

"Although I was told it was best to start trying sooner rather than later…."

" _Anora_."

Risa stood, sketching an elaborate bow. There was no mistaking the message Anora was passing along: she and Alistair were man and wife in fact as well as name... she and Alistair were having children… children Risa could not have hoped to have borne.

Even the prospect of her cook's absolutely fabulous raspberry tart had turned to ashes in her mouth.

"Your Majesty," she said quietly, "Rather than intrude on a happy family moment, I find I have… matters to attend to." She didn't even ask permission – she simply walked out of her own rooms.

Anora continued to eat her meal.


	35. Echoes of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Risa's after dinner entertainment.

Risa threw herself into a shoulder roll, avoiding Sigrun's axe swing, and flung daggers at the three straw practice dummies at the end of the range.

Three bullseyes.

"Again," Risa said.

"Commander," Sigrun said, hefting her axe and waiting for Risa's nod. Then she looked over Risa's shoulder and straightened.

Risa didn't bother to look back. She nodded, and was already moving by the time Sigrun started to swing.

"Commander, if you please…."

Risa slammed her shoulder up into Sigrun's side, knocking the Legionnaire back. "I do _not_ please," she said sharply to her second.

Sigrun swept her foot out and knocked Risa to the ground, resting her axe's head on the fallen rogue's armor. "Neither your heart nor your head's in the moment," she said. "Before one or both of us gets seriously damaged, we'd better stop."

Risa glared, but she reached up a hand. "I yield," she said formally, and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet by the other dwarf. She dusted herself off, nodded her respect to Sigrun, and walked off to join Loghain even as her Warden turned her mischievous gaze on some nervous looking guardsmen.

"So _that's_ what it looks like," Loghain said dryly as Risa fell into step with him.

"In _your_ case, it was more dignified: there was kneeling instead of sprawling, though there _was_ more heavy breathing involved," Risa reminded him, heading straight for the steps up to the battlements.

* * *

"You left the table rather precipitously," Loghain observed as Risa walked along the battlements.

"I did not care to intrude further on what was _clearly_ family business," Risa said, looking out over the bailey. The crows feet at the corners of her eyes were deeply furrowed, as was her forehead. Beyond those tell-tale signs of agitation, she seemed calm and steady.

"You still care for him." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. I'm not going to lie. But not as much as all _that_ ," she said through gritted teeth. "I mean, we all knew – we hoped this would happen, right? A Theirin heir to cement the union, civil war averted, everyone happy."

"Yet…."

Risa shrugged. "Rather unnecessarily vicious, I thought, to throw the absence of bastards and lack of fertility in the face of the previous love interest in mixed company, don't you think?" She turned away quickly, frowning out over the bailey.

"It was uncalled for, yes. But I imagine it's no worse than has already been said all around the palace and through Denerim."

"I've been, how do you put it? _Out of the loop_ as to Denerim gossip." Risa paced, her jaw tight. "And rather pointedly _away_ from Denerim."

"Do you suppose it can be easy for Anora to hear the whispers about you and Alistair," Loghain asked.

"I did what I had to," Risa flared, ignoring his question. "Ancestors forgive me, I wish I _hadn't_ but I did, and now I'm _stuck_ with it, aren't I?" She looked away with an inward groan, knowing she'd clumsily implied that she regretted Loghain's presence here.

Fortunately, he didn't seem to notice – or be bothered by the implication. "What _really_ bothers you about this," Loghain asked quietly. "Knowing what you know of him, are you still truly enamored of him?"

She shook her head, looking out into the sunset, her face impassive, as if carved from stone.

"Then what?"

Risa shut her eyes. "My line ends with me," she said quietly.

"That is not your…."

"It IS my fault," she said in a voice rich with pain. "Because not only am I barren, but I ended my traitorous brother's LIFE."

Loghain was quiet for long minutes. "You and Anora suffer from the same thing," he pointed out steadily.

"Really. Because _I_ don't live in a palace anymore and _I_ certainly am not expecting."

"No. But you're both pained by _what might have been_." He put a hand on Risa's shoulder. "And it can't be easy, knowing that your husband will _always_ mentally compare you with the woman he truly loved."

Risa shook his hand off. "Don't," she croaked.

He leaned against the wall, pointedly looking back along the battlements and not at Risa. It almost seemed as if he, too, were thinking of a time and place far away. "You three are so very much alike," he said thoughtfully. "Sacrificing your personal happiness for the sake of Ferelden."

"I said, _don't!_ " Risa looked up at him, eyes blazing with grief and rage in equal portions. She stood there, shaking, with no place to which she could retreat.

Loghain studied her, then spoke once more, quietly, as he turned to go. "Think on this. When you left for Amaranthine, you took with you both her husband's heart _and_ her father's presence."

Risa turned back to watch the sunset, her back to Loghain in stony silence.


	36. Midnight Raid

Risa padded down to the kitchens in the middle of the night.  As usual, her stomach had awakened her, rumbling.  A rather interesting and somewhat troublesome side effect of the Joining; your metabolism revved up.  You absolutely NEEDED to eat far more frequently to keep your body from becoming emaciated.

She had been gathering up some fruit, cheeses, and cubes of sausage, and grabbed a jug of the local Amaranthine rustico to go with it.  She had to admit:  surface food was far more varied and interesting than what she had generally gotten in Orzammar.  Hearing a light step behind her, she automatically grabbed a second plate and another glass to take to the small table in the kitchen she and Loghain had commandeered for their late night larder raids, and turned.  “Well, thank the Ancestors THAT day’s ov--“

Anora Theirin, queen of Ferelden, stood frozen in the doorway, partly turned away.  It was obvious that once she’d seen who was in the kitchen she’d attempted to leave quietly; now she stood there warily, as if unwilling to seem as if she were fleeing.

Risa was too tired to even think about protocol.  “Hungry?”

Anora seemed taken aback.  “I… would not interrupt your meal, Commander,” she said stiffly.

Risa shrugged.  “You won’t.”  She nodded toward the table as she started setting down the platter and the plates.  “Sit.”

Anora looked as if she might take offense, and Risa continued quickly, “Look, it’s late, I’m tired, and I don’t feel like playing games.  You wouldn’t be here without a reason, so grab a seat.”  She splashed wine into both glasses, then grabbed a loaf of bread and sliced it deftly, bringing it in a basket to the table with butter and jam.

“My – the King often raids the larder at night,” Anora said quietly as she perched at the edge of the facing seat. 

“I’m not surprised.”  Risa offered her the platter of fruit, meats and cheeses first, and Anora speared a few cubes with her fork, transferring them to her plate.  “Common complaint of all Grey Wardens.”

“My husband….”

“Still is a Grey Warden, even though he’s been given an indefinite leave of absence.”  Risa saw Anora’s face darken, and before the queen could retort said, “I have no intention of calling him back.  He’s needed where he is.  Frankly, he wouldn’t BE where he is if I didn’t see the need for it.”

“Do you intend to let me get a word in edgewise?”

Risa shook her head.  “No, not really.  _Ma’am_.”  She took a long drink of her wine.

Anora’s eyes narrowed.  “Is insolence a Dwarven trait, or just yours?”

Risa shrugged.  “No.  It’s not inherently Dwarven, though Ancestors know we _are_ just naturally superior to you stick-like surfacers.  My _particular_ brand of insolence comes from having been a princess, and from being _just that damned good_ at what I do _._ ”  She took another sip of wine.  “It _also_ tends to come out strongest when someone’s been spiteful and rude to me.”

“You’re a rather direct little thing, aren’t you?”  Anora said with surprise.

Risa raised her eyebrows.  “And you aren’t?”

Anora looked at the dwarf thoughtfully.  “Perhaps,” she said.

Risa reached over and refreshed Anora’s glass.  “Look,” she said gruffly, “life’s too short – and for me, Alistair, and your father that’s _not_ just a figure of speech.  So:  I don’t have any designs on your husband, Anora.  I stay far away from Denerim and the palace to give you both the time and space you need, and so’s no one spreads gossip about him being unfaithful.”  She looked away a moment, then met Anora’s eyes steadily.  “Know this.  _That_ man is honorable.  He would never step out on you.  _Never_.”

Anora simply watched Risa.

“For what it’s worth, I wish you both the best and hope you’ll…  you’ll be happy together.”  Risa put her fork down.  Suddenly she didn’t feel very hungry any more.

“Warden… Risa.”  Anora watched her steadily.  “Do you still love him?”

Risa shrugged.  “He’s _your husband_.  I’m not about to whore around with him.”  She took another long drink of wine.  “If you’re asking if I’d come running to defend him if his life was in danger, _yes_.  Yours too.  Anything else… well, _that_ nug’s slipped the snare long ago.”

“But you _do_ care.”

Risa shrugged.  “Do you still love Cailan?”

“I don’t see how….”

“No?”  Risa shrugged.  “Got to be uncomfortable for Alistair, thinking he’s second best… always being compared to his half brother, don’t you think?”

Anora’s eyes narrowed.

Risa nodded.  “So let’s all cut each other some slack, shall we?  At least we can all _try_ to be happy with what we’ve got.”

Anora was quiet for a few minutes, sipping her wine and watching as Risa got up and began gathering the detritus of their late night snack.  After a moment, she got up and started to put things to rights as well.

“Thank you for sparing my father’s life,”  she said softly.

Risa nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“He does seem… very much in his element here.”

Risa nodded.  “He’s been very useful in helping running this Keep and the Wardens.  I’m lucky to have him.”

Anora raised an eyebrow.

Risa laughed, a throaty, easy laugh that surprised Anora.  “Shards and sand,” she chuckled, “physically, you resemble your father _not one bit_ , but _that_ expression of yours – that’s purely him.”

Anora was not to be put off.  “I would very much like to know your intentions towards my father.”

Risa scoffed.  “Loghain Mac Tir is no blushing maiden to have his virtue defended, surely?”

“Nevertheless.”

Risa shrugged.  “He’s my second, and a fellow Warden.  I trust him with my life.”

Anora gave her another piercing glare.

“Ancestors, lady!  What would you have me say?” Risa rolled her eyes.  “Seems to me we’re well enough as is without courting disaster with any notions of… of anything more.  Your father’s of an age not to be ruled by passion, surely… and, and I’ve…. I’ve had enough of that nonsense.”  She shook her head, putting the dishes into the sink for the scullery maid to wash in the morning. 

Anora looked faintly amused, seemed to gather her thoughts, then nodded.  “Well, then….”  She headed for the door.  “Thank you for sharing your meal with me.”

“Welcome.”  Risa said gruffly, and when Anora turned away, she said softly, “Your Majesty…”

Anora paused, her back to the dwarf.

“I don’t imagine we’ll ever be easy friends… but there’s no need for us to be enemies.”

Anora turned.  “No.  I quite agree.  Sleep well.”

Risa nodded.  “You too.”

They each headed back to their rooms with plenty to think on.

 


	37. Heart to Heart

Anora, Erlina, and her entourage spent a week at Vigil’s Keep before returning to Denerim, and each evening, there was a formal dinner planned with the Queen and her handmaiden, and Loghain and Risa at the head table in the dining hall.  The rest of the Wardens, guardsmen, and soldiers were seated according to their ranks – Wardens at the next closest table with Seneschal Varel, Mistress Woolsey and Captain Garahel, then the Guardsmen and Soldiers further away at their own tables.

Loghain Mac Tir was nothing if not observant, and he noted that Anora and Risa were not merely polite with each other for the sake of politeness – the two seemed to have come to some sort of understanding.  He wasn’t sure when that had happened, but it seemed the two could manage small talk without the whole Keep tensing up for an incipient catfight.  It was a pleasant, if baffling, development.  He decided not to inquire about it, however.  Should either lady care to speak with him about it, he would listen.

It wasn’t until the night before her departure that Anora came to see him in his rooms.

Loghain had never been one for placing much emphasis on _things_ , and his rooms reflected that.  The only purely personal items in evidence, other than his armor neatly stacked on its stand, were a few maps, rolled up, on the corner of his desk and a beautifully framed and painstakingly painted map of Ferelden on the wall that Anora had never seen in his possession. “This is beautiful, Father.  Where did you get it?”

Loghain looked up at the map as if just noticing its presence, the crows’ feet at the corners of his eyes deepening into what Anora recognized as pleasure.  “That was a gift from the Warden-Commander not long after she conscripted me,” he rumbled.

“It’s a remarkable piece,” Anora agreed, turning from it to face her father.  “You say she gave it to you right after the Joining?  Why?”

“Apparently, it is a quirk of hers – a rather pleasant one, actually.  Because she did not often have money with which to compensate her companions for their service or to defray their expenses, she used her keen observational skills and relentlessly cheerful attempts at conversation to locate small, and as you see, sometimes _not_ so small meaningful gifts to show her respect and appreciation.”  He considered.  “Now that I think on it, I doubt anyone ever gave her a gift in return… odd that none of us ever considered it.”

“That map has to be worth a small fortune,” Anora observed.

“She does not stint when she has the coin, daughter.  Most of what you and Alistair granted her as a reward for her service she immediately disbursed to her companions to defray the costs of gear they had had to bear while accompanying her.”

Anora nodded, looking back up at the map.   “Father… do you regret becoming a Grey Warden?”

“Anora,” he said gruffly, “it’s the same thing I’ve done my adult life – standing between Ferelden and the darkness.”

“It is not what you would have chosen.”  She turned to look him in the eye.

He nodded.  “You know very well that life often brings us things which we would not have chosen.”  He reached over and cupped her cheek gently.  “We make the best of it, and sometimes  we’re lucky enough to find it suits us after all.”

“And are you making the best of this?” she asked.

Loghain smiled briefly.  “Consider the other outcomes, daughter.  Darkspawn spreading unchecked while the civil war raged – Orlesian chevaliers storming into the country to quell the blight and deciding to take up where they left off thirty years ago… or my execution before the Landsmeet… before you.

“No, being a Grey Warden suits me very well.  I have a clearly defined line that I can defend – as I always have wished.  My skills are appreciated here and I do useful work.  In time, perhaps there will be no more whispers about Loghain the Traitor and merely stories of Loghain of the Grey.  What more could I ask?”

Anora pulled away reluctantly, using the excuse of neatening the lay of his shirt.  “The Commander seems… an able leader.”

“She is.”

“She thinks well of you.”  Anora fussed with a loose thread, and Loghain let her, hearing all that Anora didn’t say.

“A source of wonder for me as well, I assure you.”

“Father…”

“Anora.”  He turned away brusquely.  “Now, you’ve told that husband of yours already, surely….”

Anora raised an eyebrow.  “Do you imagine I would have been allowed to leave the capital had that become known?”  She smiled.  “Does not my father deserve to hear the news from my own lips?  As soon as I return, he will know.  I am certain the good news will spread across Ferelden like wildfire.”  Her smile became colder.  “I can just imagine how well _that_ will sit well with Eamon.”

“I can hardly imagine,” Loghain said dryly.

Anora hugged him properly.  “Goodbye, Father.  We shall be on the road before the Keep wakes,”she said, then pulled away and went off to her rooms.

Loghain knew as well as she that he would be up long before the dawn himself, but Anora preferred not to have an emotional leave-taking on the morrow.  Still, he saw no harm in seeing her off from the battlements, at least.


	38. Heartfelt

"My dear Warden Commander: how fare you?"

Risa looked up from her endless pile of paperwork to see Zevran Arainai slouched in her doorway, his amber eyes half-lidded as he watched her, long blond hair tossed ever-so-carelessly over one shoulder. The elf was sexual attraction personified, and even as she firmly told herself _not interested_ , restless heat coiled in her abdomen.

"Alive, and in possession of my faculties," she said gruffly, setting her quill back in its holder. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

A slow, meaningful grin crept across his face. "Am I a 'what' instead of a 'who', now?" he purred, prowling into the room.

Risa smiled. "Never a what, no."

" _Corazon_ , I have been admiring you from afar for some time now, no? While you and our dear friend Alistair were… how do you say? An item? – I did not interfere. But now – it is clear that you two are done…."

Risa sighed.

"I do not ask for any more than you are willing to give," He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, looking into her eyes, the teasing grin gone. "I am willing to give… comfort. Satisfaction. Companionship. Whatever you desire, as much or as little as you desire."

"Zevran," she said, and in the single word were layers of meaning and emotion – regret, gratitude, rejection, warning, even love, of a more filial sort.

He nodded, accepting even as he heard the rejection in her tone. "Ah. But I refuse to believe that is a no – you have not said no. I choose to believe that is 'not now'. And perhaps even, 'maybe someday.'"

"Zev, my personal life is a disaster, calamity after calamity looking for a place to happen." She looked back at her paperwork. "It's nothing personal, but no. Thank you."

"Ah. So you don't find me attractive, then."

Risa glared. "Of course I do, you tease. But I'm not putting myself through… that. It's not worth the pain."

He conscientiously misunderstood her words. "If it's painful, _Corazon_ , it's not being done right…."

Risa snorted. "Out."

He brushed his fingers across her cheek gently. "Ah, what I would give to make you truly happy," he said softly, "and barring that, to make you feel wonderful… sexy… appreciated… both giver and receiver of exquisite pleasure…."

" _Zev_." She stepped back, out of his reach, her eyes suspiciously bright.

He smiled sadly. "As you say." He took two steps and disappeared into the shadows.

Risa sat back at the desk, sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger briefly, and continued reading through her reports.

* * *

"…I couldn't believe it," Anders was saying, in a voice tinged with wonder. "I mean, there I was, just sitting here in the mess, absolutely _murdering_ a chicken pottage pie, when in she walks, and asks, "What have I got in my pocket, Anders? First two guesses don't count." Anders opened the top of his robe, and the tiniest scrap of orange mewed at Nathaniel and Oghren. "She remembered! I don't know how she knew this would be the, the…."

"Perfect gift," Oghren said softly. "Aye, she always was good at findin' those." He grinned and slapped the seated mage on the shoulder, eliciting an angry little miaow! and a glare from Anders. "Well, you needn't chase after pussy any more… the commander's given you some!"

"Oh, classy, dwarf," Nathaniel scoffed. He turned to Anders. "So your perfect gift, is, in fact, a cat."

"I love cats," Anders said defensively, petting the kitten. "They're independent, adventurous, adorable…."

"So you're willing to stop running… and be loyal… because she gave you a cat…."

Anders frowned at Nathaniel. "And because she fought and killed Templars and wouldn't let them execute me… and she respects me and treats me like a person and not some demonic danger, and…. Ah, you'll just never understand!"

"Nathaniel… glad I caught you."

The dark-haired archer turned, scowling faintly, at their dwarven commander as she approached with something long and wrapped in oilcloth which she was holding parallel to the ground. She was filthy and followed by her mabari, Dog. "I… I found this while exploring in the dungeons. I think you should have it."

Nathaniel took the package, giving her a suspicious look, and unwrapped it. His expression shifted to surprise, then wonder as he held up a beautifully carved bow, sighting along the limbs. She was looking up at him hopefully, with a tentative smile on her face.

Nathaniel turned it and looked at the front, and his eyes widened, a smile breaking out across his face. "This… this bow was my great-grandfather's! Look, our crest, burned into one of the limbs here…." His voice dropped and he said, almost to himself, "My father always called my great-grandfather a fool and claimed he abandoned the family… Padric Howe… he went off to join the Wardens, as a matter of fact. He disappeared and we never heard what had happened to him…" He looked at Risa very seriously. "Knowing what I know now… I think he must have died in the Joining."

Risa nodded. "Many good men and women do," she said quietly. She looked at him with a tentative smile. "The bow's yours, now." She touched his elbow lightly, and then walked away.

Nathaniel turned the bow over, admiring it, hardly believing it was in his hands. "My father hid this from me… I can't believe she found it and gave it to me…."

Oghren snorted. "So, Howe – you gonna be all soft and loyal and stick with her just 'cos she gave you a bow?"

Nathaniel glared at the dwarf, and Anders laughed.

And Loghain, standing in the doorway of the mess hall, looked thoughtfully after the dwarf as she disappeared back towards her rooms, limping slightly.


	39. During the Blight Year:  The Deep Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback: Alistair realizes what returning to Orzammar has cost Risa.

"Risa…."

The young dwarf had laid her bedroll as far from the flickering light of the party's fire as she dared, listening to the irregular drips of water and ticks of pebbles falling in the distance. Being in the mines and the Deep Roads had made her unusually quiet and pensive. Her heart ached with both the familiarity of it and the pain of having entered Orzammar again.

She had never been as removed and aloof as princess as she should have been, she realized. Never would Trian had spoken as kindly and politely to all dwarva, no matter what caste, as she had. The people seemed to have loved her for it when she was in favor – the same who had praised her to the point of her shifting uncomfortably and shyly before, now spewed venom at her in the commons, in the tavern, in the Diamond Quarter…. It cut as deeply as her brother's treachery, and it was humiliating. And no one cared that she wasn't actually a kinslayer. No one cared that this exile forced on her was wrong, was rushed, and that she hadn't even been able to speak in her defense.

She was less than a Duster now, and it broke her heart. The one thing she could admit she had agreed on with Bhelen was that it was foolish and a shame to treat the casteless as they were treated. She might have hated the injustice before, but to _live_ it as she was living it now….

 _Ancestors_ , they were not even allowed to fight in the defense of Orzammar. When she left after this quest, for good, she'd see what she could do to take as many who were willing with her. Surface life was strange and hard, but at least humans didn't treat dwarva like….

" _Risa_."

She rolled over, looked up into Alistair's worried eyes. She didn't say anything – what was there to say? They had to secure an army to fight the blight, and this was the only way to do it.

* * *

The look in her eyes was mute pain and terrible grief. And he had _forced_ her here, _forced_ her to face this. She hadn't wanted to come. She'd told him she couldn't, that she was afraid. She'd come as close to begging as her pride would let her… and when he'd told her he couldn't do it on his own she'd given him one last terrible look with eyes full of unshed tears, and soldiered on.

He should have listened to her on the surface when she'd stood there, shaking, stammering that she couldn't return. She'd been afraid, and he hadn't understood then why.

He had _forced_ this pain on her.

Still, she said nothing.

She'd borne snide remarks, obscenities, outright hostility, dwarves spitting at her feet - holding her head as high and as proudly as her former ancestry allowed. He hadn't realized how completely she was outcast until the Shaper spelled it out – she simply did not exist any more. Erased.

Risa Nobody of No House. The first thing he'd picked up on was how completely essential to life in Orzammar having family was. And her own brother had condemned her to this hell.

Whatever else, Alistair was determined that Harrowmont would be placed on the throne. Bhelen would pay for his treachery – and for the grief Risa was dealing with. But it didn't – wouldn't… couldn't fix this.

"I should have listened to you," was what he finally said, his own voice rich with sorrow.

She shook her head, her lips compressed to a tight white line. Her voice came choked, thick. "We need this treaty. There's no choice."

"Risa, I…"

She sat up, pulling her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them and simply leaning her forehead onto her knees.

He knelt beside her, and gently drew her into his arms. She neither resisted nor encouraged it at first, but gradually he felt her turn toward him, bury her face in his chest, wrap her arms tight around him even as he stroked her back, stroked her hair.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear.

He didn't realize that she was crying, at first. It was something he never imagined the tough rogue doing – but there she was, shuddering against him silently, his tunic becoming damp. And then his heart seized when he heard her say quietly, "My home is with the Grey Wardens," and he wasn't sure if she were trying to convince him, or herself. "And with you."

Much, much later, he had coaxed her into laying down and trying to sleep, and he curled protectively around her, pressed against her back to keep her warm. Her head was pillowed on his right arm, and he let his left arm curl loosely over her hip and around her middle.

He was determined that he would never let her face the darkness alone. Not again. Not ever.


	40. Lady Aeducan

“Lords and Ladies, may I present Lady Risa Aeducan, Commander of the Grey, Arlessa of Amaranthine!”

Risa walked out onto the dais of the Great Hall of Vigil’s Keep, and knew that she made an impression that only Loghain and Oghren had seen before.

Her armor had been polished to a high shine that took on the warm glow of the brazier and torches of the Great Hall.  Over it, she had thrown the blue and silver quilted tabard of the Grey Wardens, and her short hair had been brushed until it shone like obsidian.  Cosmetics had been skillfully applied that left her looking absolutely breathtaking, and every inch the noble rather than the warrior.  Loghain, Oghren, Nathaniel, Anders and Sigrun all ranged around the Great Hall – none of them near her.  It was fitting.  To have an armed party of warriors at her back would make an impression that perhaps she did not wish made.

She knew that it must be strange to the nobles before her to be expected to swear fealty to a Dwarva – stranger than to a human mage (who was at least human and Ferelden), to an elf mage, to an elf, or even to an Orlesian.  For this reason she didn’t leave them paying obeisance for long.  “Rise, my Lords and Ladies.  We stand here in common cause – the prosperity and protection of Amaranthine.”

Varel nodded.  “Bann Esmerelle, by tradition and right, it is you who have the privilege of first speaking….”

* * *

 

 

The ceremony was brief, and Risa moved among the banns quietly, graciously chatting with each of them.  This part of her, perhaps, surprised her wardens – with the exception of Oghren, they had seen the rogue-warrior, and never the noble.  And even he would have seen the Princess from afar.

“You say that the farms are in danger?”  Risa was saying with some worry to Lord Eddlebrek.  “But food is essential to a people – without food, no matter how pretty the walls, the strength fails.”

“Do not be deceived by Lord Eddlebrek’s complaints,” smoothly interposed Bann Esmerelle.  “It is only his pockets he seeks to relieve of strain – not the arling.  Besides.  Dirt and mud huts can be rebuilt easily.  Amaranthine, the port city and jewel of the arling, should it fall, would cause generations of misery.”

Risa had immediately taken an intense dislike to Esmerelle– she looked and sounded altogether too much like Rendon Howe, and Risa had a sneaking suspicion the two were of like minds – but could not dispute the wisdom of what she said.  “My Lord Eddlebrek, Ban Esmerelle, I shall think carefully on what you each have said.”  _And run it past Loghain and Varel, who clearly both have more experience with this sort of surface wrangling than I do_ , she thought.

“I hope your choices show wisdom, Your Ladyship,” Esmerelle purred, moving off.

 _Veiled threat if I ever heard one_ , she thought.

A lovely young woman came to her next, with a jovial manner but worried eyes.  “My Lady, I do not wish to alarm you but… your arrival here was not uncontroversial.”

“I suppose not,” Risa said, maintaining her smile but speaking more softly.  Ah.  _Reminds me of Orzammar_.  “What may I help you with – it is Ser Tamra, is it not?”

“It is, my Lady, well met.”  The blonde knight chuckled as if Risa had said something amusing, then leaned forward as if delivering a juicy bit of gossip.  “There are those in this arling who seek to make an end of you – even before you begin.  They speak of freeing the arling of the Crown’s – and Wardens’ – influence.”

Risa threw back her head and laughed, a hearty guffaw that she knew both drew Loghain’s attention and did not, for an instant, fool him – he’d heard her laugh in earnest.  Then, taking another glass of wine from a passing servant and offering one to Tamra, Risa merely asked, “Who?”

She was not surprised to see Loghain maintain a watch from across the room – nor to see Anders charming path through the crowd, dropping a word and a smile here and there as he ostensibly sought to catch up with the servant pouring wine.

“I cannot say for sure, my lady.  I have… intercepted some messages, but they are rather oblique – yet together they form a pattern.  I would have brought them tonight except… I stand to gain little and lose much were my part in this to come to light.”

“Very well,” Risa said, as another noble – Ser Timothy, she thought – strayed too close for comfort.  “I will be happy to see that dog you spoke of – perhaps I can be of service.”

Ser Tamra’s eyes flashed thanks, and she turned away with a light, “Two days hence, then!”

 _Really_.  Risa laughed and complimented another noble on his bearing, a third on his looks, and a fourth on her exquisite taste in gowns and who was her dressmaker? _I’ll have this conspiracy by the balls before these surfacer cloud-heads know what’s hit them._

 


	41. Uneasy Rests the Head That Wears the Crown

Risa Aeducan looked up at the odd guardsman wearing the kettle helmet preferred by templars, and snorted, "Funny, I always thought the Dark Wolf was a lot…"

"…more secretive?" the man rumbled in amusement.

"Shorter," Risa grated. She shot an irritated look at Loghain, then remembered – that had been _before_ he'd joined their little party.

Oghren started to laugh out loud. He'd been along on some of the capers – most notably the one where Risa had managed, without even ruffling the feathers of the city guard OR of the Gwaren guard – to slip into the Gnawed Noble and steal Teyrn Loghain's crown, being polished and prepared for his first audience as Regent. _Fun times._ "Commander – aren't there a wagonload of nobles who'd want to see this Dark Wolf character strung up by the jewels… for _making off_ with their jewels?"

The Dark Wolf's hand started to slide toward his sword hilt, and Risa said gruffly, "That would be justice… only this fine gentleman and I BOTH know – he's _not_ the Dark Wolf… only someone making use of, and coin from, the name and reputation." She glared at him.

Loghain's eyes slid to her, considering. The crow's feet around his eyes deepened slightly, and Oghren could swear he could see the corner of his mouth raise ever so slightly.

Dark Wolf seemed taken aback. "What? But…" And then the coin dropped. "YOU? But… but you're the…."

Risa rolled her eyes impatiently. "Hero of Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine, Warden-Commander of the Grey, yes, I know my qualifications." She pinned him with a look. "You, on the other hand…"

"I… took the name out of respect for the one who wielded it before me…" he began.

Risa cocked her head at him. "I don't care about that. How am I to trust you when you even lie about your _alias_?"

"Look," he said, sounding a bit desperate. "I know why you're here: there is a conspiracy afoot to remove you – permanently – from Amaranthine and the world. I, myself, hope that you can run this arling better than the late, unlamented Rendon Howe. It was no secret that the slightest infractions brought a bloody retribution from the man – and the attack on Highever – cowardly, and cruel beyond belief. Those behind the conspiracy are confederates of Howe who'd prefer they keep their stranglehold on the port and city – and eventually take as much power as they can from the Crown. You won't let that happen." He glanced at Loghain at this last.

Risa stood, arms folded across her chest.

"Fifty sovereigns, and two days. That's all I ask to get you the names of all involved."

Risa considered. "A fair price – _if_ you deliver what you promise."

"If I don't, I imagine the results will be… unpleasant." He eyed Loghain again.

"Indeed," Loghain rumbled, "although I would worry _far_ more about the Lady and her skill than about _me_."

"Two days," Risa reminded, handing over the gold. "Honor bright."

* * *

 

As they trudged back toward the keep, Nathaniel scoffed, "You expect honor among thieves?"

She glanced up at him, surprised. "Why not? You're honorable enough, Ser Assassin… you wouldn't be impugning _my_ honor, would you?"

There was a few moments uncomfortable silence, and Loghain broke it. "So… what ever _did_ you do with that coronet of mine?"

Oghren shot Risa a worried look.

"Ancestors, I did you a favor," Risa snorted. "Whomever you commissioned to make it – it was a poorly done, gaudy, ostentatious piece. Ugly, even. You'd have looked a fool – had you ever had the chance to wear it – which you didn't."

"If I might inquire," he drawled, "what happened to it?"

Risa grinned, and handed him one of her matched set of silverite throwing daggers, hilt first. "The design was hideous. The material, exquisite."

Loghain examined the dagger. He'd seen them many times before – the most memorable time was when she had felled an Ogre that had smashed him to the ground. She had used a dagger much like this one – perhaps this very one – to fling into the Ogre's eye, killing him as the blade pierced the brain behind.

"I commend you and your weapon smith," he said dryly, handing it back.

"Uneasy rests the head," she said, grinning and nudging him with her shoulder as they walked back to the Vigil.


	42. Checkmate

“Are you sure you want to do this?”  Nathaniel asked.

“Most definitely.”  Risa’s eyes narrowed, and she smiled nastily.  “What’s the good of having more money than you can spend in your whole life if you don’t…. make wise investments with it?”

The Dark Wolf had been as good as his word, and had provided Risa with the location that the noble conspirators met to plot against her.  Taking Sigrun, Nathaniel and Zevran, she’d gone out to the farm to see the lay of the land.

The four rogues had been able to get right up close and overhear the conspirators and their plans – a peasant uprising as a distraction, and then an assassination attempt inside the Keep.  Risa had been livid when she heard that Crows were to be involved in the attempt on her, personally, and that her people were to be slaughtered as well in the confusion by these self-same lords and ladies.

 

Well, _that_ certainly could not stand.

* * *

 

Risa Aeducan was sitting on the throne in the Great Hall, her legs thrown over one of the arms, negligently nibbling on some grapes as she read a book, Dog at her side.

The Great Hall’s doors slammed open, and in stormed Sir Guy, Lady Liza, and a pack of other nobles.  Esmerelle was notably absent.  _Pity_.

“My Lady Aeducan,” Ser Timothy called as they stopped at the foot of the dais.

“Ser Timothy.”  She righted herself, dropping a hand to Dog’s head.  “A pleasure to see you, Ser – ah, and is that Ser Guy, and Lady Liza, and Lady Morag?  Most excellent.”  She rang a small, silverite bell.

A small ginger boy, dressed in grey leggings and a blue tunic with the Warden Griffon emblazoned on it came on the run.  “Yes, my la—Papa!”  The child grinned and then suddenly remembered his manners.  “My lady, my apologies.  May I greet my papa?”

Risa caressed the boy’s cheek.  “Of course, Paul.  Mind you be polite to the other lords and ladies – and then I need you to tell cook we need some refreshments here.”  She picked up her dagger from the small side table, and cut off another stem from the bunch of grapes… then held the dagger idly by the blade.

Timothy's eyes never left her.

The boy ran up to Ser Timothy and gave him a quick hug, then bowed to the rest of the nobles and ran off.

“Aeducan….”

“ARLESSA.”  Risa’s voice snapped like a whip.  “Arlessa Aeducan,” she said, more serenely, as she stood and moved toward the front of the dais.  With a contemptuous smirk, she took them all in.  “Well,” she said conversationally, “no doubt you are here to thank me for fostering all your children as my pages and messengers.”

“You cannot…” began Ser Timothy.

She cut him off with a downward sweep of her hand.  “I was _much_ surprised to find out that whilst you all were bowing and swearing to support me in all matters of earthly honor, you were hiring Crows to have me killed.  I did not believe that such _fine_ , _upstanding_ _examples_ to our lower classes could possibly be planning to be _forsworn within a few weeks of swearing fealty_.  Sadly, I was mistaken.

“You should know that I actually have reliable contacts within that august organization myself.”  _Having worked for them_ , she thought to herself.  “You should _also_ know that while I am a reasonable woman, I am NOT a patient one – _not_ in matters of honor.”

She took the dagger, and spun it in her hand.  “Now.  Let us all be reasonable.  As your arlessa, I am bound to protect those of my arling and to see them prosper.  This is my responsibility, in exchange for your loyalty and obedience. 

"Your children will live here, at the Keep, doing such mundane things as running messages, serving at dinner, and helping in all quarters that are not considered dangerous or unsuitable for them.  They will also get a top notch education from the finest tutors available in all of Ferelden, and will be trained in arms, and in diplomacy, as they get older.  When they are of an age, I will write them the finest letters of recommendation or introduction, whichever they prefer, and settle them with quite enough money to get s good start in life.  That is, so long as you remember to uphold your oaths of fealty.”

“But…”

Risa flung the dagger down into the floor at her feet, and it twanged there nastily.  “If you forfeit your honor by breaking your oaths, you forfeit everything,” she said coldly.  “Is that clear?”

Lady Liza cleared her throat.  “N-not all of your banns, lords and ladies have children.”

Risa smiled.  “And that is why there are some other, open contracts, with my friends from Antiva.  Contracts which are very clear on the point of what is to happen should I meet any… misadventures.  Contracts that are backed with quite a bit of gold, with the promise of _more_ gold as they are… fulfilled.”

Several servants came in and hastily set up a table with food and drink on it.  Risa smiled, and said quietly, “Forgive me friends – I find I am… weary.  Please.  Enjoy your repast.  I am sure we shall have many other pleasant meetings.”

Grabbing the dagger, she and Dog stalked out of the Great Hall.


	43. Turning Pages

“You did _what_?”

Risa thought she had seen Loghain in all his moods, but disbelief was not one she had come across before.  And it was rapidly morphing into anger.

“I,” she said very calmly, “am fostering the youngest children of all our nobles.  They will serve as pages and messengers within the Keep, and they will be housed, fed, and educated by us.”

Loghain shut the door to her office firmly.  “You kidnapped their children and are holding them hostage?!” 

Risa looked at him calmly.  “I am _fostering_ their children, providing them with a _valuable apprenticeship and educational opportunity_ , and setting them up with _gold and references or letters of introduction_ when they leave us on their majority.”

“You are _holding them hostage against their parent’s behavior_!”  Loghain was utterly appalled.  “Commander, that’s….”

He really _was_ upset.  He only called her Commander when he was infuriated with her.  “A smart, bloodless way of stopping this conspiracy before people die,” she responded carefully.

“You’re threatening _children_!”

Risa leaned over her desk.  “No.  As a matter of fact, I am _not_.   _In_ _Orzammar_ , we’d have taken older family members and executed one of them as a warning to the rest of them.

“I’ve never actually _said_ that I will kill them.  I _said_ it’s my responsibility to see them prosper, and that I will uphold that.  If when I said that if their parents are forsworn they forfeit _everything_ they take it to mean I will _kill_ their children, that’s THEIR problem.”

Loghain looked like he had the worst headache of his life.  “And what of those who _don’t_ have children?”

“Contracts with the Crows, money already paid out to fulfill a contract should something happen to me, bonus on it being fulfilled.”  She smiled wolfishly.  “ _That_ one I’d actually act on.”

Loghain shook his head.  “You are playing a very, very dangerous game here, Commander…”

Risa looked at him seriously.  “I give you my _word_ ,” she said very deliberately.  “Not _one_ of those pages or messengers will be set a dangerous task.  _None_ of them will come to harm through any deliberate act of mine, ever.  I’m not a monster, you know.” 

She looked away, thoughtfully.  “We could also extend the invitation to the farmholds here – especially those that perhaps may find it difficult to feed all those for whom they are responsible.  It would do those families good to know their children are fed and educated… and out nobles’ kids good to see that the lower classes are people who put their breeches on one leg at a time, same as them.”

That seemed to calm him slightly.  He raised an eyebrow.  “Risa Aeducan, social reformer?”

“The _one_ halfway decent idea my dear brother Bhelen had was to include the casteless in society.”

Loghain leaned against her desk.  It was clear he still wasn’t thrilled with her idea, but wanted to hear her plans.  “Where will you house these children?”

Risa grinned wryly.  “Don’t worry – _nowhere near you_.  I’m thinking to house them in the servants’ wing.  Two dorms – one for the boys, one for the girls.  Their tutors will be housed with them as well – adult supervision is a necessity.”

He nodded.  “I still have _grave_ reservations regarding this, Commander.”

She nodded.  “I understand.  But trust me when I say this is the best way.  I would really rather not have to scrub blood out of the Great Hall carpet or the pavers in the Bailey… and if we let this conspiracy gain any steam, _that’s_ where it will end.”

“This will not endear you to the people of Amaranthine.”

“I wasn’t dear to them to begin with,” she snorted.  “Now they will remember – I am _not_ to be trifled with.”

* * *

 

 

Within a month, the new pages and messengers had become part of the fabric of life in the Vigil.  There were indeed farmholders who had been relieved to send a younger child or two up to the Keep.  All of the youngsters, male or female, were dressed in tunics and leggings, but their assignments were clearly visible from the colors they wore.  The Amaranthine Regulars’ pages wore the brown and yellow heraldry with a brown bear; the Wardens’ pages blue and silver with a rampant griffon, and the Silver Order – the elite armed force that Wade was making silverite armor for – had silver and gold for their colors.

They began the day with lessons in reading, writing, and history – particularly the history of Ferelden and the Wardens.  After luncheon, there was an hour of arms training and exercise.  The rest of the day they ran messages and minor errands around the castle, until dinner time – when the pages ate at tables next to the tables of the company they served with.

“Girls can’t fight!”

“Yes, they can!”

“No, they _can’t_!”  A shove on the bench.

She was small, and wore her hair in two mousy brown plaits down her back, and had clearly had enough.  Instead of declaring once more that girls _could_ fight, she pulled back her fist and punched the older boy sitting next to her in the mouth, knocking him backwards off the bench.

Risa stood.

Nothing more was necessary – one of the Regulars had reared up from the table next to the squabbling pages and simply grabbed each by the collar and lifted them apart.

“My office,” Risa said levelly, as she left the table.

“Ah, the joys of childrearing,” Anders grinned as the two pages were escorted out of the room.


	44. Girls Can't Fight

Risa was standing in her office, studying the duty roster, when Guardsman Everett and his two charges came in. 

“Commander,” Everett said, “Pages Micah and Alaina.”

Risa nodded.  “Thank you , Guardsman, that will be all.”  She remembered that Micah was of noble birth, and Alaina had come from a farmholding family who had sent her younger sister with her as well.  Risa was willing to bet money that Alaina could do and had done anything and everything her older brothers had on the farm.

The two pages shifted in front of her uncomfortably, looking at each other. 

Micah was nearly six inches taller than Alaina, and he was surreptitiously touching his split lip and looking at the smaller girl.

Risa looked up.  “I don’t want to know who started the argument: both of you were involved in it and both of you share the blame.  I want to know what I should do with two pages who feel that coming to blows in the middle of dinner is the appropriate way to solve a problem.”

Micah looked at Alaina, and she at him.  They looked at Risa mutely.

She stood before them, eye to eye with Micah.  “What is the matter of the argument?”

Alaina spoke up quietly.  “Micah and I disagree on whether or not girls can fight.”

 _Good for you_ , Risa thought.  _Accepting your part in it._   She looked at Micah.  “Is that accurate?”

“Yes, Warden Commander.”  He took spoke quietly.

Risa nodded.  “Micah, Alaina, have you been out to the practice yard early in the morning?”

“No, Warden Commander,” Alaina said.  “We have lessons.”

Risa nodded.  “Lessons which include, I believe, lessons in comportment?”

Both children flushed red.

Risa put a hand on either child’s shoulder.  “Pages,” she said quietly, “do you know why we don’t strike another person in this keep in anger?”

Alaina and Micah looked at each other again, and Micah said uncertainly, “Because we get punishment duty?”

Risa had to fight not to smile.  “Do you know the reason behind the rule, though?”

Alaina bit her lip.  “It causes more fights?”

“That too.”  Risa sighed.  “We don’t hit each other, not EVER, unless we’re sparring.  _Never_ in anger.  We’re all brothers and sisters here – no matter how different our backgrounds – and we all need to KNOW that we can depend on every other person here to help us and defend us no matter what happens.”  She looked at the two.  “There may come a time when I need to send you two to Amaranthine to carry important messages to the guard and I need to be able to trust that you will help each other no matter what.”

“Don’t you and Warden Loghain ever fight?”  Alaina seemed to shrink even as she said the words, as if she expected to be struck.

“We do,” Risa said.  “We fight with words, though.”

“Well, but didn’t you fight at the Landsmeet last year and beat him?”  Micah asked.  “My father was there – he said it was a terrible fight!”

Risa nodded gravely.  “We did.  And _we_ should have had the sense to use words then, too.”  She raised an eyebrow.  “Which should settle the topic of your argument quite nicely… Girls can and DO fight.  _I’m_ a girl, aren’t I?”

“But... but you’re a dwarf.  Human girls don’t.”

“They do TOO,” Alaina said angrily.  “Leliana the Bard’s a human and SHE fought.”

Risa fought the urge to laugh.  This conversation was veering quite deeply into the same territory she and the Qunari, Sten had covered.  “Well, there are women fighters of all races.  I’ve met quite a few in my travels, and when I was in Ostagar with the army.  In fact, Warden Loghain’s most trusted officer when he was Teyrn of Gwaren was Ser Cauthrien.  She is very brave, and very skilled, and there’s not a finer fighter in Ferelden’s army.

“Tomorrow at six bells, I want you both up, washed, and dressed in your arming jackets and pants.  You’re to report to the practice field.”  By seven bells, she was sure that there would be no question whatsoever about whether girls could fight.

* * *

 

“But she doesn’t _count_ as a girl,” Micah was saying stubbornly as he and Alaina headed down the hallway to find Cook and help scrub the pots, passing Loghain as he stepped out of the staircase into what had been the family wing of the Vigil.  “She’s a Dwarf and the Hero and a Paragon….”  He stopped and looked up at Loghain.  “Ser, is the Warden Commander a girl?”

Loghain raised an eyebrow, looking between the two pages and catching their earnest looks and glares at each other.

“I think it is safe to say that the Warden Commander is an altogether remarkable woman,” he drawled, and the smaller girl grinned and yelled, “YES!” before running down the stairs, the boy following at a slower pace.

 _Quite a remarkable woman indeed_ , he mused.


	45. Rematch

Loghain watched as the two pages, Alaina and Micah, circled each other with wooden practice weapons.

“Get that shield up,” he called to Alaina, who raised it fractionally. 

Micah lunged, and his sword slid over the top of the shield to tag Alaina’s shoulder with bruising force just as she smashed her shield into his shoulder and knocked him down.

Risa shook her head.  “They’re not getting it.”  She looked up at Loghain. 

He raised an eyebrow.  “Are you asking for a rematch?”  The corner of his mouth raised slightly, and the crows feet at the corners of his eyes deepened.

Risa looked up.  “Well, it might be something to show them two different fighting styles....”  She smiled.  “And I’ve no illusions; this time you’ll be ready for me.”

Loghain unslung his shield, and nodded towards the practice field.  “After you, Commander.”

* * *

 

 

As they moved towards the field, Alaina and Micah stopped and stared.  Then suddenly, Alaina yelled, “The senior wardens are gonna fight!”

Even the other Warden pairs stopped and moved to the edges of the practice field, curious to see the Commander and her second spar.   Risa and Loghain had avoided sparring for the past year – probably because neither of them particularly wanted to keep reliving the infamous Landsmeet duel.

“It’s well and good to practice fighters against similarly trained fighters,” Risa said in a strong, loud voice, “but there’s no guarantee that that’s what you’ll find on the battlefield.   That’s why we pair mages against rogues, rogues again fighters, mages against fighters…. Even fighters have differing styles: a warrior wielding a two-handed sword has different tactics than a warrior using sword and shield.

“Warden Loghain and I are going to try each other – sword and shield against duel-wielded longsword and dagger.”  Risa walked out to the center of the space, waited for Loghain to join her.  “Anders?”

The blond mage perched on the fence surrounding the practice field.  “Don’t worry – you’ll both leave the field with the same number of body parts you came on with.”

* * *

 

 

She was fast, and she was also low to the ground.  That gave Risa an advantage off the bat _.  So turn it to your advantage,_ Loghain thought.

As Risa tried to dance around to his side, Loghain swiveled with her, with great economy of movement.  He didn’t respond to her feints except to keep her centered before him and then –

Risa threw something to the ground between her and Loghain, and the pages gasped as she suddenly disappeared into the cloud of smoke.  Loghain bellowed, and instead of charging forward at her, flung his shield arm out to his left, following through by turning with it.

There was a dull clang, and they saw Risa reappear,  crouched, her blades crossed to block the shield.  She skipped backwards, shaking her arms out, and looked a good deal more wary.

Loghain merely adjusted the grip on his sword, got his shield up, and kept her in sight.

Pass after pass, they tested each other – a sword skittering across the shield, the shield being deflected with a shove of the dagger.  Loghain’s silverite armor was beginning to tire him compared to Risa’s leathers, and Risa looked for an opening… and saw one.

Risa flung herself into a shoulder roll past Loghain, and was just bounding to her feet when her foot slipped, and Loghain's longsword came round faster than she expected.  She ducked to the side – but not fast enough – and caught the flat of the blade across the temple, spinning into the dirt and landing face first.

She didn’t get up.

“Commander!”  Anders was off the fence and running for the two… Loghain had already sheathed the sword and slung his shield aside, dropping to his knees beside the Dwarven rogue.

* * *

 

 

Risa opened her eyes.  The world was still spinning a bit, and she groaned as she put her hand to her head.  It came away sticky with blood.

“Steady, Commander….”  Anders was there, and cool blue-white energy washed over her.  Risa grimaced as the pain receded.

“Can you stand?”  That was Loghain, quietly, and she realized with a jolt that she was propped against his knees.

She started to nod, and that sent a wave of nausea crashing through her.  “Yeah…. Gimme a second.”

Risa pushed herself up to one knee, and as Loghain rose himself, he offered his hand to her, helping her up.  His expression was unreadable as she gained her feet.

“What happened?” she asked quietly, glancing around the practice field.

Anders looked worried.  “You’ve lost a bout sparring with Loghain,” he said quietly.  “In front of the pages and everyone.  Feeling nauseuous?”

Risa started to nod, stopped with a wince.  “A bit, yes.”

Loghain’s scowl deepened fractionally.  He glanced at the knot of Wardens and the two pages, all watching quietly.  “Perhaps a word to show you’re all right….”

“Show’s over; back to work, guys,” Risa called as she walked off the field under her own power – but with Loghain and Anders walking on either side of her. They knew she was a good deal less steady than she was showing.

The pages looked a little dubious, as did her Wardens, but they paired off and started sparring again.

* * *

 

 

“Maker,” Anders was muttering furiously under his breath at Loghain, “did your pride need salving so badly you had to hit her _that_ hard?”

“Shut up, Anders,” Risa said immediately.  “I’ve had worse.”

“And you two _idiots_ playing with _live steel_ ,” Anders went on.

“Well obviously, I got the flat, not the edge,” Risa growled.  She looked up at Loghain, a wry smile on her face.  “Gotta say…. This time you got me.  I wish I could say I remember how, exactly.”

“I apologize,” Loghain finally said, stiffly.  “You rolled in under my guard.  I hit you far harder than I intended.”

“That’ll teach me to try to close in for a so-called easy kill,” she joked back.  “I’d forgotten how fast you are even with all that damned armor on.  Next time, let’s try it with leathers – wooden weapons, too, so Anders doesn’t scold like a fishwife.”  She winced a little as she touched her head again.  She blinked, trying to massage away the pain.

“ _That_ ,” Anders said, “is a concussion, Commander.  And as your physician I am telling you that you need some rest to repair THAT kind of damage.”

“Bite me,” she growled, and passed through the portcullis into the Keep. 

 

 

 


	46. What Dreams May Come

Risa scowled as she sat behind her desk.  Her head was still hurting.  She couldn’t read, or do her paperwork, and she felt utterly useless.  _Rest_ , Anders had told her.  _You deserve a break once in a while.  And your head won’t heal properly unless you REST._

She put down the volume of poetry she had been trying to read, frustrated, got up and paced.  It was on her second circuit of her office that she felt, more than saw, the presence at her door.

“It seems you’re as terrible a patient as I am,” Loghain observed, standing just outside the threshold.

Risa snorted.  “In Orzammar, ‘taking a break’ often meant the difference between life and death --  political, social or literal.   It’s difficult to get used to this… sitting around.”

He moved into the room, glanced at her desk.  “And yet you enjoy poetry.”

Risa looked surprised.  “Cultural matters, the arts, history – _all_ worthwhile pursuits.  They keep the mind sharp and introduce new perspectives.”

“May I?”  At her nod, he opened the book, glanced at it.

“Do you like poetry?” she asked, standing, her back against the cool stone wall.

“I didn’t have much opportunity for reading when I was young,” he said, looking over one of the poems curiously.  “It wasn’t until Maric made me a Teyrn that I was forced to learn to read… for history, and to write properly.  It is a skill I have never regretted learning.”  He went to hand the book back to her, and Risa put it down with a grimace.  At his questioning look, she admitted, “I’m still feeling a bit nauseous.  Reading seems to make it worse.”

“Pacing like a caged jungle cat won’t help matters,” he said quietly, taking the book up again.  He flipped through it again, then sat in one of the comfortable leather-covered chairs before her crackling fireplace.  Risa cocked her head at him, like a curious little bird, her black eyes glossy and shining at him.

Loghain cleared his throat, and read in a deep and surprisingly expressive voice:

 _Sleep brings no joy to me,_  
                _Remembrance never dies;_  
 _My soul is given to misery,_  
 _And lives in sighs._  
  
 _Sleep brings no rest to me;_  
 _The shadows of the dead,_  
 _My wakening eyes may never see,_  
 _Surround my bed._  
  
 _Sleep brings no hope to me;_  
 _In soundless sleep they come_  
 _And with their doleful imagery_  
 _Deepen the gloom._  
  
 _Sleep brings no strength to me,_  
 _No power renewed to brave;_  
 _I only sail a wilder sea,_  
 _A darker wave._  
  
 _Sleep brings no friend to me_  
 _To soothe and aid to bear;_  
 _They all gaze on – how scornfully!_  
 _And I despair._ **[i]**

Loghain closed the book gently, and placed it on the side table pensively, looking into the fire.

Risa studied him for a moment, and walked over and put her hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle, comforting squeeze.  Standing before him like this, they were face to face, for once.

He seemed almost not to notice at first, and then his larger hand came up slowly and gently covered hers.  She noticed that it was warm, and that it was as calloused as her own.  She felt her heart flutter a bit at his touch, and didn’t move away.

“I never dreamed before the Joining,” she said quietly.  “And all I dream about is darkspawn, and the Archdemon when it was around.”  She met his eyes as he turned to look at her.  “We Dwarva – it’s why we can’t do magic.  We don’t dream.  We have no connection to the Fade.  I was scared almost to death the first time I woke in camp and…”  She trailed off, and then with a hard, determined set to her mouth dropped that line of discussion.  _Why bring up Alistair again?_   She glanced back at the closed book, then back at him.  “Are… are all of your dreams so frightening?”

“No,” he said after a long moment of thought.  “No, although I admit that many I can remember are… unpleasant.”  His expression darkened, then he shrugged.  “Some dreams seem complete nonsense, like flying or talking to animals or characters from legends.  Some are odd until you realize that they are related to the problems you have been thinking about awake.  Some… some are _very_ pleasant.”  He sighed.  “Memories… or seeming to see, and speak with, and spend time doing things with people you care about… sometimes people you have lost.”

Risa looked troubled.  “That sounds nearly as confusing and frightening as the darkspawn dreams.”

“I suppose we’re – elves and humans, that is – simply used to them.  It’s hard for me to imagine _never_ dreaming – simply sleeping and not experiencing anything until I wake.  Much as I have sometimes wished for the knack.”   He met her eyes again.

Risa smiled a little, and tilted her head to one side, studying the planes of his face as if seeing him for the first time.  “You would have made a fine Dwarva, Longshanks, if you don’t mind my saying s—“

Loghain reached up and lightly trailed his fingers along the left side of her face, and when she turned to him, her sentence trailing off and her black eyes wondering at the sudden intensity of his blue gaze, he leaned forward slightly and gently, very gently, his eyes falling halfway shut, pressed his lips against hers.

Risa blinked and looked at him speechlessly, her eyes widening slightly.  Then, with a soft little murmur her eyes fell shut entirely and she deepened the kiss, her other hand coming up to stroke his cheek as she leaned into him.

She felt his arms come around her, pull her closer into a hug.  She felt his teeth nip ever so gently at her lower lip, and with a soft moan she opened her mouth, felt his tongue gently playing over her lip, and reciprocated.  She couldn’t seem to get close enough, to feel him in her arms enough…. Her hands stroked across his broad shoulders, pulled herself toward them, stepping between his thighs to get closer.  She needed to be _closer_.

“Risa,” he breathed against her lips, and then trailed kisses down the side of her jaw, her throat, as she clung to him.  _“Risa.”_

Her hands slid up, one at the back of his neck, the other in his hair, and she nuzzled his ear and nibbled it, making the bottom seem to drop out of his stomach.  She was panting as she kissed the side of his jaw.  “ _Ancestors_ ,” she moaned, and he wasn’t sure if she was pleading for their intercession or giving thanks. 

He could feel her pulse fluttering quick and strong at the side of her neck.  She smelled wonderful – earth and lavender, things that reminded him of meadows full of flowers.  It had been a long time since he’d been affected so strongly by these feelings.  He hardly knew how to hold her, caress her.  He slid his hands down her back to her shapely derrière, pulling her tightly against himself, feeling the length of her body against his chest, against his groin.

She kissed him harder, and cradled his face in her hands as she pulled back, looking into his eyes with wonder.  _How… how was this possible?_   She’d never thought to feel this again – for anyone.

He stroked her cheek, and rested his forehead against hers, his voice rough as he said, “Tell me to stop, Risa… tell me to stop and I will….”

“ _Ancestors_ , Loghain Mac Tir,” she whispered, her own voice strained and rough with need and desire and a hundred things logic dictated it should _not_ be strained with, “if you stop now I _swear_ I’ll _kill_ you.”

In answer, he stood, gently steering her aside as he stepped towards the door to the hallway.  He pulled it to noiselessly, and slipped the bolt into place, looking at her questioningly.

She smiled, came to his side, took his hand in hers, and led him towards her inner sanctum.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 [i] Emily Brontë (1818-1848)


	47. Not Unless It's the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loghain muses, and Risa has one request.

_I wonder, when she wakes, if she will regret having taken me into her bed last night – if some day she will look back on this and sigh, and count it as yet another time she allowed a man to get too close and break her heart. Or if her cause for regret will instead have been in not taking a younger lover, one whose back doesn't ache after lovemaking. One who is apt to rely on his heightened stamina for several quick and lustful bouts rather than one or two more gradual rides to completion.  
_

_I certainly hope not._

_She sleeps so deeply, rests so peacefully, her head pillowed on my chest. There is something to be said for Dwarves not being connected to the Fade… once they slip into sleep, it is uninterrupted. There is nothing for them to fear or seek – they simply are not conscious and not subject to dreams, good or bad._

_Not unless they are Wardens, and the darkspawn are calling, that is. But tonight the darkspawn seem quiescent._

_It has been a very long time since I slept with someone in my arms, and awakened in the same manner. It's a pleasant feeling, as well as a protective one. I could get used to this, I think._

_I briefly consider leaving. Though it would probably be best not to be discovered together in the morning, I am aware of Risa's feelings concerning the men in her life, having overheard her discussing it with her fellow female dwarf, Sigrun. She has been treated badly, repeatedly, and yet she has given me her trust. I would not cast that aside.  
_

_There is a soft whine at the bedside. Her mabari, Dog, has been locked in with us all night, apparently. Strange that the beast did not disturb us while we copulated. And now his soft brown eyes meet mine with a pitiful whine that clearly begs me to let him relieve himself outside._

_Mabari are incredibly intelligent. I hope this one is no_ voyeur _, as the Orlesians would say._

_I ease out from under Risa, my shoulder stiff from the weight of her head, not bothering to find and pull on my smallclothes. Dog follows me out through the office, to the door to the hallway. He whines and licks my hand as I carefully slide the bolt back, crack the door open, check the hallway and let him out. I shut the door again and slide the bolt home carefully, padding back towards the bedroom as quietly as I can._

_She is awake and sitting up as I return, and in her eyes I see first disappointment and resignation. As I reenter the room, her eyes flash with disbelief, and then a smile – a shy, surprised smile, one far more uncertain than one would think of the stony Hero of Ferelden - spreads across her face like a sunrise.  
_

_"Commander," I say gruffly. This is new to me, too._

_She giggles – something else I have not seen or heard her do before. "So formal," she says, sliding over and making room for me to rejoin her._

_I ease down beside her. She is so small beside me – and yet tough, strong, muscular. No need to worry that she would break – physically, she is as likely to hurt_ me _as I her. There is something in her eyes now – something serious, something guarded. I stroke her cheek, trying to soothe that look away._

_I don't want her to be guarded and sad._

_"Risa," I say, and her eyes drift shut at the saying. "Risa," I repeat, kissing her forehead. "Tell me."_

_I hope that she is not regretting our assignation already._

_"Promise me one thing," she says, so quietly that I have to strain to hear her. "Promise me that you won't tell me you love me."_

_That brings a queer jolt of tightness to my chest. I look at her, and she is serious, her onyx eyes meeting mine with a sort of stubborn determination. There are so many emotions I see in her eyes, and some are difficult to accept._

_"Risa…"_

_"I can't play that game anymore," she says quietly, bitterly. "_ Promise _me."_

_Is it love? There is certainly respect, affection. But love…. I am not sure if it is, not yet. And if I am not sure, then it probably is not._

_"Agreed. I promise I will not tell you that I love you." I kiss her beautiful lips, and then her brow, trying to smooth away her frown. "Not unless it is true."_

_She looks at me a long moment, closes her eyes, and sighs. She doesn't ask if it is true._

_I kiss her forehead again. "Daylight's wasting."_


	48. He Likes Me, He Really Likes Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Risa wakes up... alone.

Risa swam up from her normal, dreamless sleep, and before she opened her eyes she began to smile, her heart soaring with euphoria. Loghain’s scent – leather, and good, clean earth, and that indefinable scent of his skin and hair was in her sheets, on the pillows… comforting in a way she had not been comforted in a long time.

The years had been kind to Loghain.  He was in better shape than some men _half_ his age, and she had marveled at and caressed the hard, lean muscles beneath his skin.    He had come to bed with… reticence?  Perhaps even a touch of self-consciousness that he was so much older than she, but she didn’t care about that.  Risa was no fool – she knew the man was nearly thirty years her senior – and yet his body was still trim and firm, his mind sharp, and his wit dry.  _Ancestors_ , were she still in Orzammar, she might have been married off to some decrepit, fat old fool of a deshyr, were it to the advantage of House Aeducan.  Loghain was nothing like them.

There were scars networking his skin, and he seemed shy of them as well – but to her they told a story of a warrior who had been hurt and hurt badly before, and yet who still fought.  That didn’t matter.  She had a similar map of _her_ battles emblazoned on _her_ hide to show him. 

He was attractive to her in a way many humans may have been unable to understand, but his sharp mind, his keen wit, his straightforward (some might say brusque) manner, his sense of honor and loyalty… these attracted her as viscerally as his hard, honed body and his icy blue eyes.  She couldn’t wait to meet that gaze – sharp and attentive to her every need as he moved over her, thrust into her… languid and relaxed as they’d drifted off in the aftermath of their lovemaking. She hummed happily as she came up out of sleep…

Then she heard the door shut gently.

She cracked an eye open. 

Loghain was no longer in bed with her.  He wasn’t even in the _room_ anymore.

* * *

 

 

_Stupid, stupid girl.  When will you learn?_

She was sitting up, now, trying to work out where she’d gone wrong _yet again_. 

And then suddenly he was there, at the foot of the bed, stark naked and bobbing at half mast, and it felt as if the sun had come out from behind the clouds.  She could feel the ridiculous grin spreading across her face.

“Commander,” he said gruffly, but she could see his eyes… his eyes were smiling.  The relief was so palpable that she giggled.  Actually giggled.  She hadn’t done that since….

Since before her exile.

She tried not to think of that, and instead pouted at Loghain teasingly and purred, “So formal!” as she patted the low mattress and scooted over to make room for him.  He eased himself to her lower-than-normal mattress again, languidly stroking up her leg to her hip.   

She couldn't get the emptiness she felt when she woke alone out of her mind though.  For a moment, she thought he’d left, like everyone else.  And then she felt guilty for ever thinking that, because he had faced the archdemon with her and he was still here.

She was so deep in thought that it took her by surprise when he stroked her cheek, then leaned over her, his voice soft and soothing.  “Risa…. Risa.  Tell me,” he asked, kissing her on her forehead. 

There was something at the back of his eyes that looked worried, too.

“Promise me one thing,” she said quietly, after much thought. “Promise me that you won't tell me you love me."

She heard his murmured protest, saw the look of… confusion?  and shook her head.  “I can’t  play that game anymore.  Promise me.”

He looked pensive, stroking her hair out of her face.  "Agreed. I promise I will not tell you that I love you.  Not unless it is true."  And he kissed her languidly, easing the sharp look off her face.


	49. Speculation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders knows SOMETHING is going on when Zevran Arainai leaves Vigil's Keep. So who's captured the Commander's interest?

Zevran Arainai left Vigil's Keep early the next morning. Anders wasn't going to miss the Antivan overly much – they always seemed to be competing for the attentions of the same women. And the same _men_ , for that matter.

Oddly enough, Risa had seen him off – and from the battlements, Anders could see that something had changed between the two. Zevran had been laughingly pursuing the Warden on and off since he arrived at the Vigil, and as far as Anders understood during the Blight Years as well – and yet when they parted, there was very little teasing and innuendo. When Risa had risen on tiptoe to hug the Antivan, the hug was very… well, chaste but also very intense, to be blunt. She'd been saying something very seriously to the elf, who finally nodded quietly, mounted up on the Antivan Barb she'd gifted him with on his reappearance in her life, and ridden away.

 _Something_ was going on.

* * *

_"And so you have made your choice, have you not?" Zevran sounded weary, and Risa's heart ached for him._

_"Zevran…"_

_"No, no, querida. Don't explain." He gave her a smile that was so uncharacteristically wistful rather than suggestive that she wanted more than anything to fix it, and knew that she could not._

_She walked along with him as he led his horse from the stable, and asked, "Where are you headed this time?"_

_"My business in Antiva is concluded… for now." His smile grew very fierce as he turned to look at her, and she smiled as well. "I have no place in particular to head. Why, have you a suggestion?"_

_Risa hesitated, frowning and looking away. "I hardly dare to ask it of you."_

_"Ask away, my dear Grey Warden. I cling to your every word – and it is but the work of a moment to say no if I do not accede to your request."_

_She looked at her feet a moment, then up into his eyes, locking gazes with him. "I… please. Go to Denerim… to the palace. I am unconvinced that Ferelden politics are any gentler than Orzammar's… or than in Antiva."_

_He looked at her carefully. "Corazon… you do not mean to tell me that even now, you still love the man?"_

_Risa flushed a little. "That's not the reason, Zev. This country is still recovering from the Blight and the civil war, and it would not do to have it collapse should its new ruler meet an unfortunate end."_

_He nodded. "Very reasonable. But you do still love him."_

_"Irrelevant. He does NOT love me."_

_He shook his head. "I will go to the palace. I assume you want me to watch over him? But he does not – never did – like or trust me."_

_"Go to Anora. She knows who you are, and what you can do for them. I think she'd rather like to have you in charge of guarding her and Alistair."_

_He quirked a smile at her. "Most people, knowing who I am, are not so trusting of their life with me."_

_"And yet I not only trust you with my life, but also with those I… care for."_

_He nodded. "Ok, ok. To Denerim, then."_

_Risa threw her arms around him and raised herself on tiptoe to kiss him. "Be safe, Zevran. Don't make me come and kick your ass for getting yourself killed."_

_"If it means that you will cry for me and press my devastatingly handsome face against your charming bosom as you rail against the Maker for taking me too soon… it is not much of an incentive to good behavior, yes?" He leaned down and kissed her, gently and thoroughly, before he leaped into the saddle and spurred his horse away from Vigil's Keep._

_Risa watched him until she could no longer see him on the road, and then with a sigh and a shake of her head, she trudged back to the keep._

* * *

Then, Anders thought, there was the matter of Risa and Nathaniel training the pages in archery together. That put them together for hours each day, and Maker knew they seemed always to be _touching_ each other…. Nathaniel correcting her stance, Risa sweeping a hand down his back to show students the proper alignment of his spine, the better to demonstrate to the pages how THEY should be standing.

Were Nathaniel and the Commander…..

Well, THAT would be highly improper. And annoying! After all, all of his attempts to sweep the Commander off her feet were largely unsuccessful. He knew she liked him well enough – she'd faced Templars and _killed_ them for him – but it seemed she was not interested in Anders' spicy shimmy, so to speak.

So was it Nathaniel's Broody Bowman's Body that captured her affection?

* * *

 _Risa stood behind some of the pages on the archery range, walking up and down the line behind them. "You_ never _aim that weapon at draw at another living being unless you are going to_ shoot _them," she said firmly. "Not to_ threaten _. Not to_ warn _. You do_ not _pull that string back unless you are going to loose."_

_She started on one end of the line, Nathaniel Howe on the other. They corrected stances, checked bowstrings, and got the pages facing the targets._

_"Archers at the ready!" She called. They all got their bows pointed at the ground, strings slack, just as Risa and Nate had told them. She glanced towards the targets, saw that no one was anywhere near them. "Clear downrange!" she called. She looked back toward the pages. "Nock!" she called, and the pages fumbled arrows onto the strings. Another glance downrange. "Draw!" As one, the pages lifted their bows, aimed at the targets, and pulled the strings back as far as their cheeks. "LOOSE!"_

_A dozen arrows leaped from the string. Three hit their targets._

_She and Nate moved down the line again, stepping behind pages, nudging their feet into proper position, turning their torsos more in line with the target, and then going through the whole thing again._

_And again._

_And again._

_Then she stood and aimed at the targets, letting Nathaniel point out what was proper about her stance – and even correcting it, aiming her more squarely toward the target, nudging one of her feet into place with his own. After she fired and hit a bullseye, they traded places – with Risa pointing out Nathaniel's positioning of his feet and how his torso was straight with a sweep of her hand down his spine and his trailing leg.  
IOI_

_"Commander, they're not all hopeless," Nathaniel was telling her later. "They've only just started."_

_"True," she said. "I have an ulterior motive in training them as archers."_

_"If any trouble starts, you want them behind the walls." He nodded. "Sound idea. Now, I've seen you shoot, Commander – you're normally MUCH better than this. In fact, as I recall you were firing on the run when we rescued Sigrun." Nathaniel was saying._

_"You're the much better archer than I, though," Risa said. "I was mad clear through – not sure I hit as often as I should. You, you're a cold, efficient sniper with that bow of yours. I don't mind playing down my skills so you can show the pages the proper way to do your magic."_

_Nathaniel smiled. "Well," he said, "it does help that you're of a size with most of the pages…."_

_"I suppose," she said. "So, pose me if that will help them improve." She grinned. "It's not as if I find it a terrible imposition to have a rugged noble stroking my… ego."_

* * *

The only one Anders was _sure_ Risa could not be interested in was her second, Loghain. The man had to be more than twice her age! Although the two were often deep in serious conversation, he'd never seen either so much as give each other a meaningful look, never mind touch unless it was absolutely necessary. Oghren had been right – whatever was between those two was strictly on a professional level.


	50. Get a Grip

_“Trade must flow, Commander, or Vigil’s Keep – and Amaranthine – are finished.”_   That had been Mistress Woolsey’s last words on the matter, and toward the end of improving trade, Risa and Anders had ridden off to check the state of the Pilgrim’s Path – the main road between Amaranthine and Denerim. 

The first sign back at the Keep that something had gone awry was when Anders’ placid brown mare and Milady had come trotting back up to the keep, thoroughly lathered and without their riders.

 

* * *

 

“ _Risa!_ ”

Anders had half slid, half fallen down the slope Risa had tumbled down when the ground had literally opened under her feet.

The dwarf was up on one foot, her skin paler even than normal, and her forehead wet with sweat.  She was leaning heavily against a column, her bow drawn as she looked into the darkness sharply.  One look at her left leg left Anders groaning – it was very clearly broken, and in more than one place.

“What the –“  He looked around.  “A corridor?”

“Sinkhole opened up into the Deep Roads,” Risa said as he came to her side.  “This is NOT GOOD.”

“Neither is this leg.”  He ran a hand over it while she winced and bit her lip, and shook his head.  “I can’t even heal this right now – it needs to be set, and I can’t get it back in place alone.”

Risa looked around dubiously.  “We need to get out of here.”  She blanched when she tried to put her other foot down.

“Dwarven and Warden stamina aside, you can _not_ walk out of here on that!”

Risa looked up at him.  “Well, we have three choices then.  I stay here, you go for help, and _maybe_ the darkspawn won’t have found me by the time you return.  We _both_ stay here and get killed when the darkspawn arrive.  Or you and I get out of here together.”

Anders looked at her, and winced as he felt the darkspawn beginning to move in on them.  He tried to get an arm under her shoulder, but the height difference was too great.

Risa read the look on his face and dropped one of her swords.  “ _Ancestors_ , Anders, I’m heavier than I look….”

“ _Maker_ , Risa, I’m stronger than I look,” he shot back mockingly.  “Besides, all I have to do is to get you up out of here… with luck we can grab one of those miserable hay-munchers and get you back to the Keep.”

Risa forced herself to stay still when he lifted her into his arms, and clamped her teeth down on a scream of pain.  By the time he’d gotten her back to the slope, her skin was grey and clammy, and he could see that she was fighting to stay conscious.

He looked up the slope, then blanched as he felt some darkspawn coming up on them.  There was no way he could carry her up the slope. 

“Risa….”

She nodded, looking up the steep hill.  “Put me down,” she said.

“No can do,” he said calmly.

“Anders… there is no reason we both need to die,” she said softly.  She looked up at him, and he could see the resignation in her eyes… and for once… regret.

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, setting her down, “not leaving you.”  He gripped her wrist tightly, and said, “You hang onto me too, Commander… I’m going to pull you up.”

Risa’s eyes widened, and she gripped his wrist tightly.  “Ouch,” she said softly.

Anders dug in and began climbing the slope, trying to pull her along as smoothly as possible.  For her part, he heard muffled grunts and felt her fingers dig into his wrist, HARD, when he jolted her.  The darkspawn were hooting, and some began to chase after them.

“Anders…” she said quietly, as he yanked her up faster.

“Almost there….”

“Anders.”

“I can see the top!”  He heard her sob for air.

He turned to look over his shoulder and saw a shriek bending forward with its vicious claws.  With a yell, Anders turned, firing a blast of flame right into the thing’s face as he put himself between it and Risa.  There was an answering roar behind him, and Anders dropped prone, next to Risa, out of sheer instinct.

There was a deafening clang, and Anders saw the shriek rebound off a large kite shield, and suddenly Oghren and Sigrun were there, too, getting just downslope of him and hefting their weapons.  “Get ‘er out!”  Oghren yelled.

Anders scrambled to his feet, dragging Risa up past Loghain.  “The cavalry HAS arrived!”  he whooped, but Risa didn’t hear him anymore.

 

* * *

 

“This is going to be ugly,” Anders said quietly.

Nathaniel nodded, getting a good grip on Risa’s upper thigh, while Loghain gripped her ankle tightly.  When Anders nodded, Loghain leaned back and pulled, slowly and evenly.

Risa woke screaming as Anders manipulated the bones back into place, and didn’t stop until Anders had healed her completely, gulping down a few lyrium potions to keep healing her.

Risa fell back onto the bed, and closed her eyes.  “Think I’ll just sleep here…. A week or two.”

Anders dipped a cloth into some cool water, rung it out, and wiped her face, getting rid of the sweat, blood and dirt there.  “At least a few days, Commander.”

 


	51. Semi-Precious

Risa woke up in the infirmary, and the first face she saw was Anders, sitting by her bedside.  She sat up, uncomfortably, and looked at him with concern.  “Anders, is something wrong?”

“No no, you’re fine.  Just checking in.”  Anders leaned forward.  “How are you feeling?”

Risa thought about it.  “Fairly good, considering.  I know I’m not the best patient, and I know it’s hard to heal me, too.”

“Dwarven magic resistance,” he agreed.

“Anders….”  Risa looked up at him very seriously.

“Commander, if this is where you reveal your undying love for me, believe you me, I’m not ready for that kind of commitment,” he teased.

She smiled faintly.  “Are you never serious?”

“When darkspawn are ready to gnaw our faces off, I think I am pretty serious.  Also when Templars are trying to beat me or drag me back to the Circle even though I am a Warden, yes, pretty damned serious.  When trying to heal my fellow Wardens….”

Risa had to chuckle at that.  “Okay, Okay….”  She looked serious.  “So, do you plan to always be _insubordinate_?”

“Absolutely, if you plan on being noble and expecting me to leave you to die,” he snarked, but then the smirk faded away and all that was left were his warm brown eyes, unusually serious.  Risa had the feeling that she was seeing something most people never did, and she paid close attention without pushing.

“Commander,” Anders said in a questioning tone.

“Risa,” she said.  She smiled and leaned forward to rest her hand on the back of his.  “I think now that we’ve saved each others’ asses we can dispense with the formal titles – in private, anyhow.”  She shrugged.

“Okay, Risa, then.”

“Anders, you nearly got yourself killed trying to pull me out of that sinkhole.  The Vigil would have been in a tight spot without a healer,” she said seriously.  “For the good of the Wardens, you should have run when I told you to do so.”

“After all you’ve done for me, C—Risa, if you think I’d abandon you….  I owe my life and my freedom to you.  And I know I can be an enormous pain in the arse – but you’re the first person in a very long time who’s ever treated me… well, like a person.  Like I’m worth the trouble.”

“You ARE worth the trouble,”  she said.  Then her eyes sparked with mischief.  “Of course, when I’m yelling at you I may conveniently forget we ever had this conversation.”

“Of course.”  He found himself chuckling, and they sat in companionable silence for a bit.  Anders nodded at her leg and raised an eyebrow – she nodded, and he raised the sheet to take a look.

It was bruised and swollen from hip to ankle, but as Anders ran his hand over it and blue white fire danced along the limb, he nodded with satisfaction.  “The bone’s sound, but the bruising and swelling is going to take a while to subside,” he said.  “So, that means you get to lie there and relax for a day or so more.”

Risa sighed.  She really didn’t like sitting around, but she knew if she tried to move on the leg, the bruises and swelling would take longer to heal – and might become worse.

“So… Zevran left.”

Risa’s face stayed carefully neutral at the sudden change of subject, but she nodded.  “He did.”

Anders shrugged.  “I’m sorry.  I know you two were close.”

Risa sighed.  “He wasn’t a Warden.  I’d never have forgiven myself if he became tainted.”

“So that leaves Oghren and Loghain, of the original Blight Companions.”  Anders searched her face.

Risa managed a shrug.  “The others have lives,” she said.  “And their lives no longer include me.”

Anders pulled the sheet over her leg again.  After a few minutes, he said very quietly, “I understand.”

Risa looked at him sharply, as if she were about to answer – and then reconsidered.  Maybe he _did_ , at that.

Anders seemed to be considering something, then spoke, his fingers finding hers and squeezing them gently.  “It’s not good to be alone for too long, Comm… I mean, Risa.”

Risa blushed, and she couldn’t meet Anders’ eyes.    “Is that your professional opinion?”

“I’m serious.”  He stood up, searching her face.  “Don’t keep beating yourself up.  Take a chance.  You could use a companion, you know?”

Risa nodded.  “I’ll take it under consideration.”

Anders smirked.  “I know, I know… you’re probably thinking that a tall, blond, handsome devil like me is just too much man for you… especially since, you know, mage and all.” 

Risa laughed.  “Too much man?  Oh Ancestors, Anders, have you _seen_ what Oghren’s packing under that armor?”  She winked.  “Our Dwarva men are… well.  Generously endowed.”

“I am suddenly horrified,” he said, laying his hand on her shoulder for a moment as he stood.

As Anders turned to leave, he saw Loghain standing just inside the infirmary door, clearly waiting to speak to Risa and not wishing to intrude on the conversation.  The blond sketched a sweeping bow to Loghain and said, “She’s all yours.”  Then, turning back to Risa, he said, “Don’t let this ambulatory tombstone tire you out with too much work.  You know what they say about all work and no play….”

“I give you my word, Anders:  I will not wear out the Commander,” Loghain said dryly.

Risa’s face never changed, except that Ander could swear she was amused.


	52. It Doesn't Matter

After Anders left, Loghain simply leaned against the wall near the doorway, his icy blue eyes on Risa.  “So,” he said with some amusement, “did I truly hear that it is healer’s orders that you should seek out companionship?”

“You did,” she said, “and I told him I would take it under advisement.”

“I have always been of the opinion that one should follow one’s healer’s recommendation to the best of one’s ability.  Otherwise, how is one to improve one’s health?”  The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes crinkled in the manner that she had come to recognize as amusement.

“Oh, indeed?”  She looked thoughtful.  “And with whom should I seek this companionship?”

“Commander, I will draw up a list for you as soon as possible.”

“Well,” she said, as if reluctantly.  “I suppose it’s not much different from you creating a duty roster… that’s not outside your area of responsibility.”

“That is true,” he said gravely.  “I believe you will find it rather a short list, Commander.”

“Ah.  Then I am to assume Oghren and Sigrun will be on it.”  Risa pushed herself up to sit more squarely upright, smirking.

The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly.  “I have always found puns to be the lowest form of humor.”

“Low is it?”  Risa scoffed.  “My my, and _now_ who’s being amusing?”

He walked over and sat beside the bed… close, but not so close as to excite comment from anyone else should they pass by.  “This is becoming too much of a habit with us, Commander… I’d prefer not to come visit you in your sickroom anymore.”

“Yes… there are other _far_ more interesting reasons I can think of for a visit from you at my bedside,” she said very softly.

“Minx.”  He smiled, then settled back.  “Your little champion has been beside herself since we arrived here with you unconscious.  She is driving Anders to drink asking about you constantly, and she apparently has been insisting that Nathaniel to help her improve with the bow – above and beyond the afternoon lessons.”  Loghain smirked.  “I think she has it in mind that your example proves that ranged skills are important – given you’ve gotten well walloped lately.”

Risa nodded.  “No question there – bows _are_ good… until the darkspawn rush you.”

* * *

 

It was another two days before Risa was up and about again, and as Loghain had warned her, Alaina was very much underfoot and driving everyone crazy about the Commander’s recovery.  It wasn’t until Risa started teaching the archery class again that the girl seemed to relax.

Life at the Vigil settled into well-worn grooves, and Loghain had to admit that Risa had been right – with their children living at the keep, the noble conspiracy seemed to have ended.  Risa let some noble parents visit their children at the keep, and they seemed to go home reassured that their children were, in fact, being well-treated.  The children of commoners who had _not_ been involved in the conspiracy had been allowed to go home for a weekend, and had all reported back promptly on Sunday evening.

Risa made certain to speak personally to each child at least once a week to be sure that all was well with them.  She took responsibility for their emotional well-being as seriously as their health and their education.

“I feel for her,” Sigrun was saying quietly to Oghren in the commons as Loghain passed by.  “Duster like me, I never hoped for more, you know?  Just surviving was good enough.  Watching the commander with the pages… you’d have to be blind to miss how she wanted kids of her own.”

Oghren snorted.  “Ancestors have a funny sense o’ humor.  I never _wanted_ to be a father – not that I’d trade the nuglet for anything, you unnerstand – and here I am.  Odds weren’t good for her _before_ becoming a warden… now it’d take a sodding _miracle_ for her to have one of her own.  And it can’t help knowing the pike twirler’s having a kid either.”

Sigrun winced.  “Ouch.”

* * *

 

“Micah,” Risa was saying very seriously to the page in her office, “I’m proud of the progress you’ve made.  I’m especially proud, though, of what Constable Aidan reported to me about your defending Mistress Gower from some thugs.”

“Ma’am, it wasn’t right.  One of them had her backed against a wall, and the other had the knife.  I… I thought if the one with the knife wasn’t there, she could free herself.”

Risa nodded.  Micah had seen the pitchfork driven into the tree near the Crown and Lion, and had grabbed it as he ran toward the two toughs.  Were Risa in his position, she probably would have driven the tines into the knife-wielder’s kidney… but Micah had instead reversed the tool and cracked it down across the other tough’s wrist as he yelled for the guards.  The knife had skittered out of reach, and Mistress Gower had kneed the one holding her against the wall and clawed his face in the confusion.  Micah had kept the formerly-knife wielding tough at bay by using the handle of the fork like a staff and tripping up his opponent, then holding at bay with the pointy end until Aidan and his men arrived.

“Well done, lad,” she said, clapping him on the shoulder.  “Now, you’ve missed your family, I’m sure…”

Micah looked up hopefully.  “Ma’am, I have… I’m also old enough to know why I’ve not been allowed home.”

Risa nodded.  “And _I’m_ smart enough to know that when I’ve had you run messages to the Chantry, you’ve seen your mother and sisters… haven’t you?”

The boy went white.  “Oh, please, ma’am….”

She shook her head.  “Micah, lad… be easy.  I know you’ve seen them.  I _also_ know it would have been easy for you to return to your home, but you haven’t.”  She handed him a yellow slip – the same type of slip she handed the Wardens and the soldiers when she gave them leave.  “You’re an honorable young man.  Visit with your family for three days, and then come back and resume your duties.”  She smiled.  “Now, off with you.  Pack whatever you think you need for a few days’ visit.”

“Ma’am, thank you!”  He started to salute, then faltered, unsure of what the protocol should be as he wasn’t one of the soldiers.  He settled for darting over for a quick hug, then running off to the dorm.

“Was that wise?”

Loghain stepped into her office from the hallway, one eyebrow raised.

“Probably not,” Risa admitted, “but he’s had every chance to run off before and never done so.  He deserves a bit of a reward.”

Loghain nodded.  “It’s well that he took those two by surprise – a lad alone against two armed men….”

Risa nodded.  “Agreed.  Nathaniel and I – and you too, Longshanks – should start showing them how to disarm someone with a knife.”  Risa looked past him, out the door thoughtfully.

Loghain watched her for a moment, and said quietly, “You’re very good with children.”

Her eyes darted to his, and she said a bit reticently, “I should be – you know how it is commanding our fine Wardens.”

He let his mouth quirk slightly upward and seemed to accept her statement at face value… still, it seemed Sigrun was not far off the mark.  Risa seemed genuinely proud of Micah, and concerned for his happiness – above and beyond what most fostered children could expect. 

“If he does not return?”

She shrugged.  “Then I send the guard to retrieve him.  And his hard-earned freedom is a memory.”  She looked out the window, out over the bailey.  “I’m betting his sense of honor sees him back here.”

Loghain stepped closer, speaking softly.  “Does it bother you… that as Wardens, none of us – save Oghren – will likely have children?”

“Save Oghren and Alistair, you mean,” she said softly, and she turned away, picking up the fire iron and busying herself with it, stirring up the wood and embers until the fire was merrily crackling again. "And you."

Loghain remained silent, simply watching her.

Risa shrugged a few minutes later, almost as if answering herself and not him.  “Doesn’t matter anyway.  Not something I have to worry about.”

“Risa….”

She turned to face him.  “Quit moping about it,” she said gravely.    “You already have a daughter, and you’ll have a grandchild – grandchildren, Ancestors willing – soon enough.”  She set the fire iron down a bit more roughly than strictly necessary, then headed out of her office with a, “Heading down to the archery range for a bit.  See you at dinner.”


	53. Courting Danger

Risa pulled on her Grey Warden tabard over her clothes, glancing up at Loghain who was similarly attired.  “Well… let’s get this over with.”

“An admirable attitude,” Loghain said dryly.

* * *

 

 

Risa walked out into the Great Hall at Vigil’s Keep.  There was already quite a crowd there waiting for her, and she could hear muttering and restlessness.  She was glad her pages were at their lessons right now rather than mixed into the crowd.

“Could get ugly,” Nathaniel said in an undertone as he took his place at the far left of the dais.

Risa nodded.  Court often did. 

Varel announced her and called the court into session, then spoke quietly to Risa.  “Commander, the first case is that of Alexc, the sheep herder,” Varel said gravely.  “He stole grain from the Crown.”

Risa nodded, and fixed her gaze on the man.  He looked absolutely miserable, but made an attempt to stand straight before her.

“Alec, you are accused of having stolen grain from the Crown.  Would you be so kind as to explain this to me?”

He looked as if he were going to wring his hat to pieces.  “Ma’am,” he said softly, “my sheep all got blight sickness and died, and I had no way to support my family.  My children and wife were starving and… well, the previous arl…”  He glanced up at Nathaniel, trembling.  “The previous arl was of the opinion that the Maker helps them that help themselves.  My, my neighbors, there was only so much they could spare even for my littleuns, you understand and so...”  He dropped his gaze to his shoes.  “I know I have no right to cry mercy of you, Ma’am, but my family was hungry, and without me I don’t know what….” He trailed off.

Risa looked up at Varel.  He shook his head slightly.

“It’s a shame,” he said in an undertone.  “He’d have escaped with a whipping had he stolen from anyone else – but stealing from the Crown is a capital crime.”

Risa looked at Alec, then glanced at Loghain.  Tricky.  Without punishment, anyone would feel they could steal from the crown.  On the other hand, had she been here or had Alistair heard his plight, they’d have given him help.

“Alec, you know that the punishment for stealing from the Crown is your life.”  Risa spoke very deliberately.  “I find myself in a quandary.  I _must_ have your life… and yet what good does that do?  The Crown is still out the worth of the grain you have stolen, and your family must needs be deprived of its means of support or throw itself on the  Chantry or community to support it.”

Loghain gave her a pointed look that all but demanded that she NOT put this man to the Joining – not that she would anyway.  He didn’t have the look of one who’d survive the Joining to begin with.

“Your life I must have, and so I shall,” she said, and his neighbors cried out against it.  “Alec the Sheepherder, your life belongs now to the Crown.  You will report immediately to Captain Garahel of the Vigil’s Guards and will serve a life sentence as a soldier.  If I must have your life, then it will be in a way that is meaningful and provides some benefit to the Crown.”

The man looked as if he might cry there and then.  “Maker’s blessings on you, Your Ladyship!” he cried.

“Do _not_ mistake me, there’s precious little mercy in this:  it is a hard life and you may well lose it in defense of Amaranthine and Ferelden.  But at least you will make some amends for your crime.  Additionally, your pay will go to support your family, so you need not worry for their well-being.”

There was a great deal of murmuring and muttering about this, but it seemed mostly relieved.  She motioned Varel closer.

“Ancestors know his family will not be able to manage the farm without him.   They are tenant farmers?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Bring them here to the Vigil and house them within the bailey.  They can help work the land here, and the farm they used can be rented to a family that can work it.”  She nodded as Alec said his goodbyes to his family, and then was escorted away by the Captain.  “What’s the next case?”

“Desertion, Commander.”

Risa’s eyes narrowed as a young soldier was dragged before her.    She was NOT amused, having been a commander in Orzammar’s army before  becoming a Grey Warden.

“This is Private Danella, Commander.  She abandoned her post to return to her home.”

“Ma’am, I asked repeatedly if I could check on my mother,” she pleaded.  “The darkspawn were very close to the farm, and I explained this but….”

“But you went anyway,” Risa said sharply.

“Commander…”

Risa cut her off with a glare.  “You’re lucky that the Crown has made a significant investment in your training in terms of both coin and time, and that we’re just recovering from a blight.  I won’t throw a soldier away –“  Here, the nobles started grumbling and her fellow soldiers murmured amongst themselves – “but _neither_ can I turn a blind eye to desertion.  Your fellows could have died if there were an attack and you not there to do your part!”  Risa stepped forward, bristling with fury.  “One year in the dungeon for desertion.  Take her away.”

“It’s a hard sentence,” one of the younger soldiers muttered.

“Hard, but more than she deserves,” an older one observed.  “They _hang_ deserters.  At Ostagar they had one in a crow’s cage in naught but his smalls, waiting his sentence.”

Loghain raised an eyebrow at her, and Risa murmured so only he could hear, “If there were need, we could free her to defend Amaranthine.  Otherwise, she can sit in a cell and contemplate the wisdom of desertion and disobeying one’s commanding officer.  And so can the rest of her fellows.  I can tell you _I’d_ rather hang than be imprisoned.”  For a moment, there was a flash of pain in Risa’s eyes, and Loghain winced.  Risa had been jailed twice – and once at _his_ behest.  What he had later heard had been done to her and to Alistair… well.  It was no wonder the boy hated him.

The next case involved a dispute over a bridge – Ser Derren’s family had built it.  Lady Liza Packton had convinced Rendon Howe to cede it to her – and had the papers to prove it.  There was no easy way to resolve this without angering at least one of the two nobles.

“It was confiscated from me because I did not support YOU, Warden Loghain!”  Derren snapped.

“Yes, well,” Risa said smoothly, “unfortunately, the arl had the right to do so – even if I find it rather distasteful.”  She leaned forward.  “Tell me plainly, Ser Derren: will you trust me to make this up to you another way?  I am as bound by the law as my vassals, but I promise I will not forget you.”

Derren looked thoughtful.  “You are known to keep your word, Arlessa.”

She nodded.  “We will speak on this in a fortnight, if that is agreeable, Ser Derren.”  She had a thought to make him a liason at the nearest opening to the Deep Roads.  That would earn him _far_ more coin than the bridge Lady Packton was so pleased about having stolen from under him.  It pleased her that in one fell swoop she would have increased trade for both Orzammar and the Keep, and placed Ser Derren squarely in her debt.  It also pleased her to think how it would wipe that smug look off the bitch’s face once she realized that she’d done Derren a favor.

She looked to Varel, who nodded that this was, in fact, the last case of the day.  She inclined her head towards the stairs, and Varel called out strongly, “Court is adjourned.  Please clear the Great Hall.”

 

 


	54. Ruminations

Risa Aeducan, living Paragon, Hero of Ferelden, Commander of the Grey in Ferelden, and Arlessa of Amaranthine stared out over the battlements as the sun sank below the horizon, bathing Vigil’s Keep in warm golds and reds and deep cool purples.  There was enough ugliness in her everyday life that a twice a day miracle of beauty was well worth getting up early for and pausing for near the end of her day.  Normally, she enjoyed this time of day – as a Dwarva who had never been out of Orzammar until two years ago, she had never gotten bored with watching the sun rise and the sun set – but tonight, her mind was barely on the light show that she had come to think of as her special treat. 

Today, she wasn’t really aware that the sun had already slipped below the horizon and that it was getting colder until her cloak was placed gently over her shoulders.

She looked up then, startled, to see Loghain Mac Tir, her second in command, standing just behind her.  His icy blue-grey eyes were on her, his eyebrow raised slightly as he tried to read her face, but mercifully, he said nothing.

He was a man of few words, expending energy on nothing unnecessary.  He knew her well enough to know that whatever bothered her, she’d tell him in her own time.

_Maybe I’m wrong._

Logic reassured her that she must be wrong.  _Must be._   Because the alternative was simply too ludicrously ironic for words. 

The cynic in her started to laugh bitterly.  Yes, well, that would just be _perfect_ , now wouldn’t it?

“Would you prefer dinner in the mess with the others, or in your office,” Loghain asked quietly.

The thought of dinner made her stomach churn.  She blanched and shook her head.  “Not really feeling up to it,” she confessed.

Well.  Now that had gotten his attention.  He said nothing, even as he escorted her back inside the keep, but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her.

He remained silent as he escorted her to her rooms – and accompanied her into her sitting room as was his usual habit in the evenings.  It was now that he usually ate the evening meal with her and they discussed Warden business; later into the evening (and into a bottle of brandy) he generally let his hair down, so to speak, and the two senior wardens bantered and joked with each other.

And over the past few months – very discreetly (so discreetly that Risa was certain none of the other Wardens so much as _suspected_ ), they had also carried on a _physical_ relationship.  On the surface, it may have appeared a completely mismatched and platonic relationship, but the truth of the matter was that they complemented each other’s personalities perfectly… and that he was a skilled and rather generous lover.  There was so much to him that others rarely got to see… so much she was discovering as well.  She hoped he found as much joy in her company as she did in his. 

Unusually tonight, however, he shut the door to the hallway.  He didn’t speak, not yet, but she felt nervous and vulnerable under his gaze as he sat in his usual chair.

“You were right about young Micah,” he said after a time.  “The boy _did_ come back – he has a stronger sense of honor than his parents, apparently.”  Micah had been one of the noble children ‘fostered’ at the Keep after Risa discovered their parents had been hiring Crows and fomenting rebellion against her as Arlessa of Amaranthine.  After the boy had defended and saved a woman from assault in the city proper, Risa had given him a three day pass to go home and visit his family.  Loghain had thought he’d disappear; Risa believed the boy would return rather than be forsworn.

“Yes, well…” Risa said, “he was worth taking the chance on.  He’s heard lip service to honor at home, surely; he’s _seen it_ in action here in the Keep, I hope.”

“Children do as they are taught,” Loghain said quietly.  “And parenting – a difficult job sometimes – but rewarding.”

Risa looked away uncomfortably, “Ah, but then how do you explain the differences between me and Bhelen… and between Nathaniel and his father?  It’s not _all_ what’s taught… some is inherent, I think, in the individual.”

“No doubt you’re correct.”  He let his gaze wander over her a moment, but what he was thinking Risa couldn’t tell.  “There are times I wish I had been more available to Anora….”

“She’s a fine woman,” Risa said, cocking her head to look at him.  “You did well in raising her, I think.”

“I was unaware you thought so highly of her.  Still, I’m sure her finer qualities were all instilled by her mother,” he ruminated. 

“Her keen mind, quick wit, sense of tactics?  All you, no doubt.”  Risa smiled gently.  “Don’t  sell yourself short, Longshanks.”

He leaned forward then, gently running the backs of his fingers down the curve of her cheek.  “You’re kind to say so.  But I am well aware that I shall never win any prizes as far as fatherhood goes.”

“Well.”  Risa captured his hand in her smaller on, kissed his palm gently.  “You’ll get to try all over again….”

He drew in a sharp breath, his fingers tensing around hers.

“…this time being the Grandad.  Best part is that _this_ time, you get to give them back when they need changing and whatnot.” 

She slid out of her chair, standing before the fireplace.

“You appear to think that I had much to do with the care and feeding of Anora as an infant.  I did not.  That was the purview of her mother, and her nurse.”

Risa shrugged.  “Well… no use really in worrying about it… it can’t be changed now.  But… would you have done differently, if you had the chance?”

“I don’t think so, no.  The person I was could not have chosen a different way.”

Risa nodded, then continued to look into the flames.


	55. Lights  Out

Risa groaned and cracked open one eye. "Can't a dwarf _sleep_?" she groaned.

"Apparently so." Loghain was bathed and in his leather armor, and had in hand the duty rosters for the week. She also saw a tray had been set up in her sitting room/office with coffee, eggs and…

The smell of the eggs hit her, and she felt instantly nauseated. But being trained to travel the Deep Roads and avoid detection by darkspawn stood her in good stead; she managed to quell her nausea with a couple of deep breaths, though she felt instantly cold and knew that there must be a thin sheen of perspiration breaking out all over her body.

Loghain missed nothing, she knew, and he sat on the bed beside her. "You seem unwell."

She sat up, looking around her room. Too bright. "What time is it?"

"Nine bells."

"Nine…?!" She swore fervently and fluently as she tossed back the covers and put her feet to the ground. "Ancestors, why did no one wake me?"

"I did," he said, utterly reasonably. "You seemed in need of rest." He pinned her with his icy gaze. "Are you taking proper care of yourself? Even with the vaunted Grey Warden and Dwarva resistance…."

"Shards and sands, I _had_ a mother, Loghain," she muttered. She walked to a large stand in the corner of her room which held a basin, a pitcher full of fresh water, and a looking glass. She began splashing water in her face, then washing her face, hands, and neck carefully in her basin.

"Have you spoken with the healer?"

She snorted with irritation. "For a moment there, I thought you were _Loghain_ , not _Wynne_."

He sighed. "Yes, well, as unwelcome and as preachy as the mage's comments were, she _did_ have a pretty sharp eye and a good idea of what went on around her." He came up behind her to hand her a towel. When she took it, drying herself, he put his hand gently on her shoulder, kissed the top of her head.

She looked up and met his eyes in the looking glass. What she saw was worry – something she was not accustomed to see on Loghain's face. Irritation, impatience, a mocking sneer – yes. Humor, contentment, affection – even _passion_ – yes. But worry was a new emotion to read there, and she was unsettled by the idea.

"Caridin's stone balls," she chuckled, turning to look at him. "I'm fine, Loghain. Just a little overindulgence, lately. Apparently I'm not as young as I used to be. Bit of a spar should set me right." She sighed, throwing on her gambeson and starting to yell for a page.

"They're all at lessons," Loghain reminded her. "Allow me. It's been some time since I acted as arming squire, but I daresay I remember how it goes."

There was something rather intimate in Loghain kneeling before her to help put on her armor. His fingers were quite nimble, and he got her into her leather sabaton, greaves, and cuisses swiftly.

She winced a bit as he stood and strapped her into her cuirass – the armor felt a bit tight and uncomfortable, especially around her chest. She could see his slight frown as he buckled it, then knelt to fasten her tassets.

Her rerebraces , vambraces and pauldrons went on more swiftly, and then he helped her pull on the leather gauntlets. Fully armored in her leathers, she started out of her rooms.

"Breakfast?"

She shook her head. "Time's wasting."

* * *

As good as her word, this time Risa made sure to pick up wooden practice sword and dagger to spar against Loghain. The practice yard was nearly empty at this point; the pages were not yet released from classes, and Wardens and soldiers alike had tasks to do.

Anders wandered over from the outbuildings near Andraste's statue to watch. Healing Risa's leg a few months ago had been a real trick, and while he was fairly sure it had healed up properly, he meant to keep an eye on her style to make sure it was, in fact, not hindering her.

The two senior Wardens smiled, bowed to one another, and then took a ready stance. At a nod from Risa, the two began to circle one another and then….

The passes were almost faster than he could follow – a swing of the sword, a jab with the shield, a twist and a solid thump as wooden dagger met ribs, hard.

Anders' eyes narrowed as he watched the two. They moved in a graceful dance of slashes, thrusts and parries that seemed nearly choreographed, so in tune with each other the two seemed. Each attack flowed into the next like water, and each counter was perfectly made. It was very nearly as if the two could read each other's minds.

This time she tried to get inside Loghain's guard again, but when he swung the longsword to force her back she didn't stumble and he didn't catch her across the temple. Anders did notice, though, that Risa seemed a little flushed and she seemed to be breathing a little harder than usual.

About fifteen minutes into their bout, Risa raised her hand and Loghain, his eyes on her, stopped. The Dwarva commander seemed inordinately tired, breathing hard, and even as Anders uncoiled from where he had been sitting on the keep's steps, she put a hand to her forehead.

"Commander?" Anders walked across the bailey toward her, and Loghain was already coming to her side when her knees buckled, her eyes rolled back, and she went down like a poleaxed steer.


	56. And NOW What?

Risa woke, coughing.  She pushed herself up to a sitting position, batting Anders’ hands away from her face.  “Ancestors,” she snapped, “what in the Void is _that_?!”

“ _Hammonicus sal_ ,” the blond healer said, capping a small flask and slipping it back into his belt pouch.  He was kneeling beside her, his expression set into a neutral look that worried Risa more than if it had been angry, frightened, or even relieved.  “Wonderfully efficacious stuff…”

“Yes, we used it in the army as well,” Loghain said dryly.  He glanced at Anders, raising an eyebrow.

Anders grasped Risa’s elbow gently.  “Come on, then, up you go.”  He waited for her to get he feet under herself, then steadied her as she rose.

“What happened?”  Sigrun emerged from the Keep at a run, sparing a glance at Anders and Loghain as she skidded to a stop beside Risa.  Catching sight of the wooden practice weaponry, she said cheekily to Loghain, “This is _your_ fault, no doubt.”

Loghain’s eyes narrowed, but beyond that and a grunt, made no response.

“Right,” Anders said.  “No arguments, Commander… come with me.”

“Anders, I’m….” Risa started, trying to gently disengage from him.

“…not going to argue with me, because you know how foolish that would be.  I’m glad to hear it.”  He started to walk towards the Keep with her, with a serious look on his face that made Risa’s protestations die off.

Sigrun took a step to follow, and Anders fixed her with a look and a slight shake of his head that made her stop in her tracks.  Then healer and Commander disappeared inside the Keep.

Sigrun looked up at Loghain questioningly.  He simply began to gather their practice equipment up to rerack properly, his whole demeanor grim.

* * *

 

 

“Anders, this is _ridiculous_ ,” Risa protested, sitting on the edge of her bed as the healer looked into her eyes, then laid the back of his hand against her forehead.

“How’s your appetite?” he asked, ignoring her complaints.  “I didn’t see you at supper or having a late snack last night, nor at breakfast….”

“Well, uh, ok,” Risa said, and he frowned at her.  “Well, I haven’t felt terribly hungry lately….”

“And that’s _completely_ normal for a Grey Warden, is it?”

Oh.  He wasn’t yelling, but Risa could tell Anders was supremely irritated with her.  “Well, skipping a meal never hurt anyone….”

He raised an eyebrow and she subsided sheepishly.  “Sleeping enough?”

She shrugged.  “Well, I did get up rather late today….”

“Mmm-hmm.”  He fixed her with a look that brooked no argument.  “Sit still.”

There was a probing wash of green energy that gathered around his hands, and then he began to run his hands lightly and slowly over her head, concentrating, eyes closed.  Working magic on a dwarf was difficult at the best of times, and he frowned and said sharply, “ _Sit still and stop resisting._ ”

Risa froze, and sat still.  It was hard, feeling the warmth of Anders’ hands and the prickle of magic as he brought them down along the sides of her neck, then over her shoulders.  He turned slightly, so that his right hand hovered over her chest and his left down her spine as he went.

She felt, more than saw, him stiffen, but he continued to examine her, his hands gliding down past her hips and legs, less than an inch from touching her skin.  Then his hands came back up to hover over her torso again.  Suddenly, the magic sputtered and faded away, leaving him kneeling before her with a very strange look on his face.

“What is it?”  Risa felt her chest tighten, and a cold shiver went down her spine.  She’d never seen Anders without some kind of wise remark to make, and yet here he was, looking for all the world as if she’d clubbed him over the head.  That... that was frightening her.  “Anders, what’s _wrong_?”

He shook himself, and gave her a very speculative look.  “Uh, wrong.  Um, nothing is wrong, _per se._   You’re in fine health, considering, you know, the whole Warden thing…”

Risa took a deep breath, forcing herself to deadly calmness, schooling her features into stone.  “What is it?” she asked quietly.

He nodded, taking hold of himself as well, and putting on a more professional demeanor.  “Well.  I think I am going to have to keep quite a close eye on you from now on.  There are… quite a few unanswered questions that are going to, uh, need answering.  You’re going to need to make some decisions in fairly short order about… well, no doubt you’ll need to make a report to Weisshaupft and to Denerim… probably even back to Orzammar….”

“Why?”  Risa’s eyes and voice were both flat when she asked.

“Well, I don’t know quite how you managed it, Risa, but you seem to have a gift for achieving the impossible.”  He sat up briskly.  “Let me be the first to extend my congratulations.”

Risa blanched.

“It appears that we can expect a good Fade spirit to place a bouncing little bundle of joy into your arms, if all goes well.”

Risa shook her head slowly.  “That… that’s _impossible_.”

“Apparently not.”  He squeezed her hand, started to get up.  “Are you going to be ok?”

She shook her head slowly.  “But I’m a Dwarva…” she said, “and a Grey Warden.  This… this can’t be happening.”

He settled back down beside her.  “Look, I know… I hardly believe it myself.  Is there anyone you want me to get for you to talk to…?”

She shook her head quickly.  “No.  No.  I’ll….”  She got up, paced to the window to look out.  “Thank you, Anders.  I’ll take it from here.”

He stood, looking at how stiffly she held herself.  “We’ll have to talk after you’ve had a chance to wrap your head around this – discuss your plans for the next few months, an exercise regimen, diet…”

“Yes.  Thank you.”

Anders nodded.  “If there’s anything I can do to help – you need only ask.”  And he walked out of her room with every question he desperately wanted to ask unanswered.

 _Now what?_ Risa thought with some despair.

 

 


	57. Soonest Begun is Soonest Done

Risa was standing on the battlements, looking out over Vigil’s Keep, huddled in her cloak.

 _And now what,_ she thought again, probably for the hundredth time since Anders had told her the news.  _How do I tell any of them, let alone ALL of them?_

Dog huddled beside her, sensing her turmoil, and leaned into her with a soft whine.  Risa buried her face in his thick neck, hugging the mabari tightly.  _Sometimes I feel like you’re the only one who understands_ , _Dog,_ she thought to herself.  _The only one who doesn’t judge me, and find me wanting. At least the only one who loves me unconditionally._

She sensed a familiar buzz behind her eyes – how could she not?  Loghain’s taint had been humming in her consciousness for months now, as familiar to her as her own breath.  Ironically, from being so close to him all the time, she could pick it out at a greater distance now – it used to be that she could only sense him and know it was he who stood behind her from a ten foot radius.  She knew now that he was coming up the steps to the battlements, probably in search of her.

The feel of his taint was different from Alistair’s – she couldn’t quite explain it, but Alistair had felt jagged and fresh and new, jangling in her head.  Loghain’s taint was quieter – powerful and measured, dangerous but restrained.  She supposed it had much to do with one’s maturity as well as one’s outlook on life.  It was the difference between newly distilled whiskey and one that had been aged in oak for twenty years – one harsh and brash, the other smooth and smoky.

She could even feel something of his emotional state through the taint… there was calm, but concern.  Confidence and curiosity.  She could only imagine what he felt through their bond.

* * *

 

 

 _Fear_.

Loghain had only just started to be able to discern emotions when Risa and he had gone up against the archdemon, and she hadn’t felt _this_ afraid even when she thought she was sacrificing her life to save his in a desperate fight against a mad, tainted god.  Then again, he remembered that she had been resigned to die then.  He also recalled the conversation they’d once had where she said it would be far easier to _die_ for the good of Ferelden than to _live_ for it.

She was right, of course.

He truly had to admire her.  As he saw her standing near the crenellated wall, he could feel her disquiet and fear curling around his heart and squeezing – how much worse must it be for _her_?  And yet her body was still, her face neutral.  Being as Stone, she had said once, and it was very apropos.  No non-Warden seeing her would think she was so very emotionally unsettled – she seemed the epitome of calm acceptance.

He wondered when she would tell him what was bothering her.  He knew it was a health issue – else Anders would not have dragged her off and been so completely tight-lipped about the nature of their discussion.  Perhaps the taint was tearing through her system, killing her far faster than the thirty years she was supposed to be allotted.  It would be a terrible irony should she die before he did, an irony that he’d loosed Maker only knew what kind of mischief for Thedas with the swamp witch in a bid to extend Risa’s life.

Were things a little different, he would not hesitate to ask her what was wrong.  But he had no claim on her, no right to _demand_ an answer of her.

She would tell him, in her own time.  Or she would not.

* * *

 

 

Dog swung his huge rectangular head around to see Loghain approaching from the stairs, and he wagged his stub of a tail so hard his entire back end seemed to vibrate.  Loghain was Of the Pack.  He wasn’t Pack Leader (Risa was), but he was clearly Of the Pack.  His scent and Risa’s were so often intermingled that in Risa’s absence, he listened to Loghain.  With a soft woof, he padded over and licked Loghain’s hand.

“Well, well, my friend.  Are you keeping an eye on our commander?”  Loghain scratched Dog behind his ears, and the mabari whined with pleasure.

Loghain knelt, eye to eye with the mabari.  “How is she, Dog?”

The mabari gave a whine, and looked toward his mistress.  Then he nudged Loghain with his nose, hard.

“I’ll try,” Loghain said quietly, reaching into his pouch and pulling out some chunks of roasted boar to give to the dog.

* * *

 

 

Risa turned her head slightly as Loghain approached.  She didn’t have to, really… she could tell through the taint that it was he, and he was alone.

“I see you brought your cloak this time.”

“Yes.”

Loghain looked at the curve of her cheek and longed to stroke it – but one of the unspoken rules they had was to keep any expressions of affection strictly private.  She seemed so alone… in the same way she had seemed alone when the Blight companions had pulled away after his conscription.  Sad… but under it, definitely, fear.

“Loghain….”

“Risa….”

They had both started to speak at the same time.  Loghain inclined his head toward her, motioning her to begin.

Risa squeezed the bridge of her nose.  “I don’t know how to say this another way.  I…. I haven’t been at my, my best lately.”

Loghain nodded, and when she seemed disinclined to say more, prompted, “Risa.  Whatever it may be, just spit it out.  It can’t be all that fearsome.”  He did step closer now.  “You beat the hero of the River Dane to a standstill, killed the archdemon, and ended the Blight.”

She bit her lip, closed her eyes.  “It wasn’t supposed to be possible,” she said softly.

He waited for her.

She looked away.  “Soonest begun is soonest done,” she said.  “I… we….”  She looked up at him and said in a rush, “You’re going to be a father again.”

And burst into tears.


	58. Well and Truly Stuck

Loghain blinked with surprise, then knelt before Risa, cupping her small round face in his hands and wiping her tears away gently with his thumbs. He smiled faintly, and kissed her lips gently. "I confess, love… 'tis quite the surprise." He smoothed the hair back out of her eyes. "Rather a pleasant one, I think… if unhoped-for at my age."

She stiffened, pulling back – but he was at her height now, and she couldn't escape that clear blue-grey gaze. "I told you not to tell me you loved me," she said angrily, rubbing her tears aside and trying to compose herself.

"And I told you I wouldn't – unless I did."

"And you choose to tell me _just_ after I tell you I'm bearing your child?"

He stroked her cheek, then said gravely, "I _have_ been telling you," he said. "You haven't been listening."

* * *

_"You listen to me, Risa Aeducan," he'd growled, "You dragged me into this madness, made me into this monstrous, tainted thing… don't you DARE think you're leaving me to pick up the pieces!"_

_"Isn't that what you've always done?" she had said quietly. "Picked up the pieces for Maric… for Cailin…" She'd looked at him. "This time you'll do it for Anora… and she and everyone else will see you for the hero you are."_

_Loghain had stared at her, stunned. She'd given up. Not even half his age, and simply resigned to die. Probably thought everyone would be the happier for it. Was probably even nearly completely right._

_He would not allow it._

_He'd bent swiftly, and kissed her – a hard, punishing kiss that made her eyes fly open in surprise and then he'd released her, leaving her breathless and shaking in reaction as he stalked to his own bedroom door, flung it open, and stormed away._

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

_"Loghain," she had later asked, her raven eyes like flat black pools in her pallid face. "That kiss…."_

_He'd raised an eyebrow, waiting for her._

_It took five minutes, but she had finally settled for, "Why?"_

_He'd smiled. "Because neither of us is dead yet."_

* * *

_"Promise me one thing," she had said quietly, after much thought. "Promise me that you won't tell me you love me."_

_She'd seen his look and shaken her head. "I can't play that game anymore._ Promise _me."_

_He'd looked pensive, stroking her hair out of her face. "Agreed. I promise I will not tell you that I love you. Not unless it is true." And he had kissed her languidly, easing the sharp look off her face._

* * *

_"Charming," Loghain had said dryly to Anders on the mage's confession that he had dallied with Namaya. "I'm sure you did not allow her to continue in these…_ differing expectations _for long…."_

_Anders had shrugged. "She knew I was an apostate on the run. I never promised anything."_

_Loghain had given him a withering look. "A wiser head than mine once observed that spoken or silent, there is a promise made in any bed. Should you not want to keep it, better never to_ make _it."_

_Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ ~ Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ_

_"Risa."_

_She had looked up, her onyx eyes meeting his icy ones with surprise._

_"I can hardly be called a paragon of virtue," he'd said gruffly, holding her gaze. "I had hoped one thing was clear between us, however."_

_She'd regarded him, her spoon half between bowl and mouth._

_"I do_ not _make promises lightly, and I do not make promises I don't intend to_ keep _."_

* * *

Risa's eyes widened, and she looked back into Loghain's eyes searchingly as he quirked a slight smile at her. There was still such a guarded quality to her body language, closed in on herself. Like a dog who'd been kicked before, who was only now realizing that not every foot and hand were made to hurt.

And then she'd shuddered, and put her arms around his neck, stepping close for a hug. He gently enfolded her in his arms, and felt her tears on the side of neck as she buried her face in his shoulder.

" _Ancestors_ , what a mess," she said tremulously.

"We'll get through it."

"The Grey Wardens…."

"WE'RE the Grey Wardens," he said calmly. " _Stuff_ the Anderfels. Stuff _Orlais_. They sent _one_ Orlesian near his Calling after the disaster at Ostagar, and it's been _two years_ and they've sent not a copper nor even much in the way of information. All that the Wardens in Ferelden have has been recovered by _you_ up at Soldier's Peak, or given by the crown _here_ at the Vigil. _Stuff_ them."

She stepped back a little, going no further than necessary so that she could meet his eyes. "I can only _imagine_ the reaction back in Denerim," she said quietly.

"The King relinquished _any_ right to comment on your life the moment he broke it off with you and married my daughter," Loghain said with an icy ferocity. "Should he make any noises about it, I have no doubt Anora will take him well in hand."

"If he confiscates the Vigil…?"

Loghain smiled wolfishly. "I doubt he is that stupid and petty – but if he did, it would be well to remind him that what happened in the Blight years is a direct consequence of the _last_ time the Wardens were kicked out of Ferelden, in Arland's time."

Risa wiped her face. "And the arling?"

He shrugged. "We can take a leave, leave Howe in charge, perhaps, if you don't want to be here during your confinement."

She bit her lip. "You don't mind… If… if our child survives infancy, it'll be half-dwarven."

"Maker, no. How could I, I don't object to his mother, do I? Does it offend you that he'll be half _human_?"

She looked stunned for a moment, then shook her head. "No. No, it doesn't. But I can fairly hear the deshyrs in the Assembly now." She groaned.

"You're their Paragon. They won't _dare_ criticize you."

He leaned forward, and gently kissed her forehead, both of her eyes, and then her lips. "I am not an easy man to live with. Maker knows, I'm a cranky uncommunicative bastard most of the time. I'd like to make an honest woman of you. I'd appreciate it if, when I ask, you refrain from stabbing me in the kidney with some fool protest that I'd _only_ offered because of our child."

Her look hardened. "Haven't you?"

He sighed, stroking her cheek. "Maker knows I loved Maric like a brother, and I know why he did not – and _could not_ – acknowledge Alistair, but _I will not do that_ – not to _you_ and not to our _child_." He smiled ruefully. "One way or the other, woman, you are well and truly stuck with me."


	59. Paragon

Loghain glanced over his shoulder at the three guards standing just outside the doors leading into Orzammar, and how low they had bowed to Risa in greeting.   She had nodded to them, spoken briefly, and moved on with Dog in her wake.

Risa turned to Loghain and asked quietly, “You’ve never visited Orzammar before, have you?”

“No… Maric and Cailan once came to visit your father on a state visit, but I stayed behind in Denerim to mind the store.”

She nodded, leading him into a stately hallway lit by impressive magma flows.  “This is the Hall of Heroes,” she said, stopping before one of the huge granite statues.  “This is Paragon Branka.  She created a fuel that did not give off as many poisonous fumes, making it easier and healthier for both smiths and for explorers to work in enclosed spaces without getting ill.”

Loghain glanced up at another, obviously newer statue, and glanced back at Risa, who froze when she caught sight of it.

It depicted a female dwarf standing with two longswords leaning back over her shoulders, one foot up on a stylized severed dragon’s head.

“Suits you,” he said after looking it over.  “Especially the fierce look in the eyes.”

She blushed a little.

“Paragon?”

Risa turned, and smiled.  There was a pretty young dwarva there, who was leading a little boy who could barely toddle by the hand.  “Zerlinda?”

The girl blushed.  “You remembered me… Paragon, I am honored.”

“How could I forget?”  Risa knelt and ruffled the little boy’s hair.  Loghain noticed her eyes narrowing as she brushed the boy’s cheek and he saw a small, purple tattoo.  “Your parents accepted him?”

Zerlinda’s face fell a little.  “Well, we have a place to _live_ …” 

Risa nodded seriously.  “You are always welcome in my House, Zerlinda – and this young dwarf as well.” 

The woman looked as if she were going to burst into tears.  “You are too good to me, Paragon.”

Risa smiled.  “I remember you mentioned wanting your son to be a warrior; I will not hold either of you to that as an _oath_ , but _should_ he wish it, there certainly would be a place for him as a warrior in House Warden.”

* * *

 

 

After they said goodbye and continued on towards the commons,  Loghain simply glanced at Risa from the corner of his eye.

“How much do you know about Dwarva society?” Risa asked.

“I know there is a caste system in place….”  He waited.

“Ducan’s father was casteless,” she said.  “Until I intervened, her father gave her an ultimatum: expose the child in the Deep Roads or become casteless herself.  We take the caste of our same-sex parent.  Had she born a girl, the girl would have been Smith caste and her paramour would have been elevated into the Smith caste.  Since she bore a boy, he should have been relegated to Dusttown, and doomed to be treated as a criminal or worse.”

“And your offer to have her join House Warden?”

Risa shrugged.  “I’m a Paragon.  If I say _I’m_ his father and he’s warrior caste, then he’s warrior caste.  Even though we all know that’s not possible.”  Risa looked grim.  “One of the things I do not like about Orzammar is your birth determines your position in society so completely.  It’s the only damn thing Bhelen was right about.”

Loghain nodded.  “And you’re not a surface dwarf because….”

“Paragon.”  Risa looked up at him.

“So… because you killed the archdemon and are a hero, they are willing to accept you…  had you not become a Grey Warden….”

“Less than nothing.”  She shook her head with a pained smile.  “When I was exiled, my name was stripped from the Memories – from every mention ever made in the extensive Dwarven histories.  And I was blotted out from the records of House Aeducan completely.  I ceased to be a _person_ –even a _memory_.”

“And now?”

“House Warden.”  She shrugged.  “Don’t try to understand it.”

As they headed down towards the hall that would take them to the Diamond Quarter, Loghain paused.  “I am certain that you and King Harrowmont will have much to discuss, Kingmaker,” he said quietly, in his understated teasing, “that a prickly old goat of a human would simply make more awkward.”

Risa chuckled.  “Your courtesy and consideration regarding this are boundless,” she grinned.  “If all runs true to form, you should be safe to show in about two hours – that’s when supper will no doubt be served.”

He smiled faintly, and grasped her forearm as if she were simply another brother in arms.  Her clever fingers stroked his forearm and he felt a pleasant shiver travel down his spine.

“Minx,” he murmured quietly, and she winked at him before heading off.

When he was sure she had gone, he turned and took a few steps behind him to a market stall.  Oghren and Sigrun both had suggested when gently probed that Garin the Smith would be the merchant most likely to have – or be able to make – very nearly anything one could wish for.

As he approached the stall, he reached into his belt pouch and pulled out an old glove, far too small to fit his hand….

 

 

 


	60. Welcome Home

"My Lady…"

Risa was halfway to the palace when Gorim Saelac stepped out of an alcove, his pleasure in seeing her writ large on his handsome face. Risa nodded to him, and slowed to a stop awkwardly. Truth be told, she had wanted to put this particular meeting off for as long as possible.

"Gorim. You're looking well, old friend." And that was the truth of it; he was looking well. Being allowed back in Orzammar obviously agreed with him.

"And you are as beautiful as ever, my lady." He paused. "Have you been to your estate yet?"

"No," she admitted. "I go to present myself to King Harrowmont as is only proper and courteous; other business must wait until then."

He nodded, and it seemed to Risa that he had hoped she would accompany him back to the estate so he could show her around. She'd worried about whom to make her steward while she was away – she'd chosen Gorim because it was a way to bring her old friend home and she knew he would take care of her belongings.

"If Zerlinda of Smith caste approaches you, Gorim, she and her son are to be welcomed at the estate without delay. My apologies, I must see the king."

"My lady…" There was something strained in his voice.

"Later, my friend. At the estate. I give you my word."

Gorim winced at that, a little, but bowed his head. "As you say, my lady."

* * *

"Paragon, a pleasure to see you!"

The moment Risa had entered the throne room, Harrowmont rose from the throne from which he had been listening to entreaties from some nobles.

Risa bowed her head. "Your Majesty, an honor." She looked at the two deshyrs standing agape before them. "I would not interrupt the day's business…"

"Nonsense." One of the two nobles smiled at her, sketching a bow. "You may not recall me…."

"Lord Denek Helmi." Risa smiled. "Of course I recall you. We had an interesting conversation over a pint when last I saw you in Tapsters."

"You honor me, Paragon."

Her eyes swept to the other noble, who was looking at her sourly. "Lord Piotr Aeducan," she said neutrally.

" _Paragon_." There was not even a hint of warmth in his voice. Not that she cared, particularly. He'd backed her brother, Bhelen, in his backhanded attempt to take the throne. She wasn't sure how much he'd known about Trian's murder beforehand, but a look through Shaperate records – which she'd had on her last trip here, while looking for Branka – showed he'd been the first to call for her exile into the Deep Roads. She regarded her cousin with a faint smile on her face, daring him silently to speak. The last time she'd seen him he'd gloated about her no longer being an Aeducan – sadly, since the death of her father and brothers and her exile, being an Aeducan did not have the cachet it once did."Is the human in the Commons yours," he sneered.

Risa's face and tone were as bland as mother's milk. "Perhaps once your… business here is taken care of, we can meet at Tapsters. I'd like to stand you a pint in remembrance of _past glory_ and to _better times_."

His hand started for his blade, and immediately guards stepped forward menacingly.

"Lord Aeducan you forget yourself!" Harrowmont snapped.

"Another time, _cousin_." Piotry growled.

"Cousin? There are no Aeducans in my line, nor are there Wardens in _yours_." She smiled sweetly. "Though if your much diminished honor demands, I will gladly meet you on the proving grounds – and leave you spitting blood and sand again."

With a snarl, he turned on his heel and left the throne room.

"My apologies, Your Majesty…"

* * *

It was much later, after a very polite state dinner with Harrowmont and some notable deshyrs (a few from House Helmi, some Vollney, Bemot and very notably no Aeducans) that Loghain and Risa walked out of the palace.

"To camp, Commander?" Loghain murmured with surprise. "I had assumed we would be given rooms in the palace."

"No need." She walked back towards the commons area, her eyes sweeping the fronts of noble estates and reading the names on them. "Ah."

She lead Loghain into the front door, and they were met immediately by a ginger dwarf. Loghain looked at him. Something very familiar about him – had he a relative in the Denerim market, perhaps?

Gorim stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Welcome home, my lady."


	61. Commitments

Risa looked around the great room of her estate, her eyes taking in every detail of adornment and furnishing. She turned a slow circle, her face alight with wonder, and smiled brilliantly – first toward Loghain, whose crow's feet crinkled and who smiled slightly back in answer to her obvious happiness – then to Gorim.

"Ah, Gorim, is this all your doing?"

He nodded, although Risa noticed there was something more… formal and distant in his look now. "I did, my lady. Come, let me show you and your… guest… around."

Risa smiled ruefully. "Oh, manners!" she said, and introduced them. "Loghain Mac Tir, I'd like you to meet Gorim Saelac – Gorim was my second for many years before my… before I left Orzammar. Gorim, I'd like you to meet Loghain… my fellow Grey Warden, my second in command… and…" She hesitated a moment, then fired off a phrase in old Dwarvish.

Gorim's eyes widened, then narrowed at that, but he turned and said to Loghain politely enough, "Welcome." Then he turned to Risa. "Do you want the tour, or would you prefer I show you to your rooms?"

"Tour, please," Risa said with a smile.

As Gorim started to move off, Loghain leaned in. "What was that you said of me?"

Risa smiled. "I said you were 'He who forges my heart'."

Loghain's eyes widened a fraction and he actually smiled. His fingers found hers, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze as they followed Gorim.

* * *

It was much later when Gorim finally had a moment to speak to Risa alone. Loghain had headed back to library to relax a bit before retiring, and Gorim had approached Risa with a worn look to his face.

"My lady…. I… I realize that during the Blight you needed to choose another second – someone strong and skilled to watch your back since I could not…"

"Gorim." Risa looked at him, her eyes pained.

"…but I am willing to take up that role again…"

"Gorim." Patiently.

He looked in her eyes, and saw the truth there, and flinched. "But my lady, a hu—"

Her eyes hardened, and she said, very precisely, " _Gorim_. You said it yourself. It would never have worked out. You moved on. You have a family. I have moved on. I would ask you to try to be happy for me."

He looked away. "I had hoped things could… go back to the way they used to be."

"How?" she asked simply. "I am not the girl who left Orzammar. I am no longer naïve, or simply a spoiled noble expecting I may do as I please and have the world handed to me like a nug roast. All I have, all I am, I forged myself." Her eyes narrowed. "Yet one thing has not changed – I believe in honor. I will be no adulteress."

"My lady…."

"Gorim." She spoke quietly but firmly. "You have a family. The Ancestors have blessed you with a wife who will give you children. I am happy to see you back in Orzammar where you belong, but what was… can never be."

He looked pained and ashamed. "My lady… your last night here…."

"A promise was made," she said simply, "and broken." She turned away. "Don't make this harder for both of us than it need be. You are my seneschal – he to whom I trust my estate. And you are my friend – he to whom I trust my confidences. But we both have commitments and I will not break mine."

Gorim's cheeks colored. "Yes, my lady." He bowed.

"Be well, my friend," she said softly. "You know I wish you joy."

He nodded curtly and backed away.

* * *

When she found Loghain in the library, he was slouched in a low stone chair, engrossed, apparently, in a book about Deep Roads tactics. She smiled, looking over his shoulder at the book.

He looked up finally, and asked, "Did you have a nice chat?"

"Nice… hm. Perhaps not nice. Not antagonistic, at least." She laid her cheek gently against the side of Loghain's head.

Loghain put the book down on the arm of the chair opposite her, then let his arm steal around her waist. "He was the one who broke faith with you, in Denerim?" His voice was deceptively mild.

Risa scowled. "Who…."

Loghain smirked. "Who else but the bard, who thought it would make a terribly romantic tragic ballad – the loyal young noblewoman cast aside by her knight in tarnished armor. And Oghren, grumbling on about how he'd been all but stripped from Warrior caste and the faithless, honorless…."

"Enough." Risa pulled away enough for him to see the pained look on her face.

Loghain stroked her cheek, his eyes meeting hers without flinching. "He was a fool, to let anything come between you," he said quietly. "And I am many things, but fool, I think, is not one of them. Let him direct his attentions elsewhere – preferably to _his lady wife_." Loghain tugged her yet closer, and kissed the back of her hand gently. "I will not be so amicable with him should he force his attentions on you again, my dear."

"Loghain Mac Tir," she said, her eyes full of worry, "if I find the both of you on the Proving Grounds hacking at each other, I swear by the Ancestors and the Stone that I WILL be your next challenger there!"

A young dwarf knocked at the library door, giving the two enough time to compose themselves and for Risa to seat herself at a slight remove. "My lady," the girl said, sticking her head in the room, "There is a woman come here with her… son. She says you bid her come."

Risa stood. "Yes, thank you. Show me to her – and send word to get rooms ready for her and the boy."


	62. Legacy

As Risa and Loghain walked past Tapsters, two guards coughed uncomfortably.  “Um, Paragon… are you sure you wish to, uh, bring your guest into Dusttown?”

Risa nodded.  “Whyever not?  We killed the Archdemon… surely a few Dusters can’t pose much threat to us?”

The guards look ill at ease.  “It’s just…. Why would you wish to show a surfacer… our criminals and beggars?”

“He needs to understand the castes here,” Risa said, and dared them to say any more.

 

* * *

 

As they walked through Dusttown, Loghain’s jaw tensed.  “This… this looks rather like the  Alienage in Denerim.”

“Yup.”  Risa grimaced.  “Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, knowing we can be equally neglectful of and oppressive to our poor.”

“Why are we here?” Loghain asked.

“Because I pay my debts.”

They walked along until they came to a brazier, and Loghain watched as a female dwarf struggled to her feet.  “Well, well, if it isn’t the Warden!  Come all this way to see old Nadezda?  I’m honored, salroka!”

“Nadezda,” Risa smiled.  “How has life been treating you?”

“Well, still hungry, still unable to work but hey, no Carta lording it over us…”  The dwarf looked up at Loghain.  “Still hanging with the cloudheads?”

Risa nodded.  “Still hanging with them.”

“Hey, not complaining, you know?  You got things straightened out down here… well… mostly, anyhow.  Got some silvers to spare, for old time’s sake?”

“Actually,” Risa said, “I have a bit of a… proposition.”

Nadezda glanced at Loghain and shook her head.  “Nah, I don’t really think he’s my type…”

Risa continued quickly, before either Loghain or Nadezda could continue.  “You’ve heard of House Warden?”

“Sure, newly minted Para—hey, that’s YOU, isn’t it?”  Nadezda looked almost panicked.  “What does a Paragon want with old Nadezda, huh?”

“I want elevate you to House Warden,” she said quietly.  “You helped me when I needed it.  I don’t forget that sort of thing.”

“Wh-what would I have to do?”  The dwarva looked wary.  “You know I can barely walk….”

Risa shrugged.  “Learn a trade – something decent.  You’ll be part of House Warden – not casteless any more.  You can do whatever you like – but you must do SOMETHING productive.  She smiled.  “Get your things together, and we’ll send for you – and them – tomorrow.”

The dwarva looked as if she might cry.  “May the Ancestors look on you in favor!”

Risa was about to leave when Nadezda said, “Wait… it… it may be a lot to ask, but Nadezda knows a couple of things you should.”

Risa raised her eyebrow.

“There’s… there’s a girl here.  Lost her brother when Behrat was in charge, you know?  Her belly’s swollen with a noble’s child… only the noble’s dead and she’s afraid the rest of the House won’t recognize her, you know?”

Risa cocked her head.  “Who is this noble hunter?”

“Her name is Rica – she lives a couple doors down….”

Risa went very still.  “Very pretty girl, red hair, speaks well?”

“That’s the one.”

Risa put 10 silvers into Nadezda’s hand.  “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

“So the Broscas were brought into House Warden….”

“Because the kid in Rica’s belly is Bhelen’s.  And I’d like to see my niece or nephew raised right, thanks, with all the rights and privileges of his caste... or at least, of being elevated to a warrior caste, if it's a girl.  The grandmother – well, maybe she won’t need to be a drunk now she has the ability to get a decent job.”  She sighed. 

“And that scoundrel, Leske?”

Risa shrugged.  “He’s been taking care of them since the older brother died.  Need some guards, don’t you think?”

Loghain shook his head.  “I can’t think that your fellow nobles will like it…”

“Let them not like it,” she said quietly.  “Maybe this will be Behlen’s legacy – showing that casteless can be productive members of society.”

“No,” Loghain said quietly.  “That will be _your_ legacy.”


	63. Negotiations

Risa sat uncomfortably in King Pyral Harrowmont’s study, but she met his gaze steadily.

Harrowmont sighed, and squeezed the bridge of his nose.  “Risa, I’ve known you since you were swaddled, so let’s not stand on ceremony.  You were _never_ this big a pain where I sit before you became a Warden.”

Risa leaned forward.  “So long as we’re not standing on ceremony – I was _never_ a lot of things before I was _exiled unjustly_.”  She shrugged, smiling to soften it somewhat.  “Not that that’s _your_ fault.”

Harrowmont sighed.  “So you’re elevating Dusters to House Warden—“

“Who’s most likely to join – folks who already HAVE a House, or folks who want to get ahead?  We’ve had Paragons come from the casteless, Your Majesty – we can’t pretend there is no talent there.”

“And it’s not to rub it in your…. In Aeducan’s face, right?”

“Perish the thought,” she said, grinning wolfishly.

Harrowmont sighed.  “It is your right – as a Paragon, and therefore a living Ancestor, your decisions carry more weight than even mine.”

Risa smiled. 

Harrowmont  took a sip of his lichen ale.  “What is the story with your second?”

Risa sat back, looking at him steadily.  “What story?”

Harrowmont leaned forward.  “Risa….”

“He’s my second.”

Harrowmont raised an eyebrow.  “Let’s suppose the mineshafts aren’t buzzing with the stories of the Paragon and the Cloudhead for a moment.”

She shrugged.

“Risa….”  He shook his head.  “I understand as a Grey Warden, you need to… work with and _live_ with other races, but to bring your second here… people are _talking_.  Since you bring only him, they assume that means you are having a… physical relationship with the human.”

Risa leaned back, her eyes hooded and her face blank.  “People will talk.  They talk _loudest_ when there’s nothing to talk about.”

Harrowmont’s eyes bored into hers, but Risa didn’t flinch.  Finally, he sighed.

“I know you helped put me on this throne, Paragon – and for that I am grateful.  Please don’t start another civil war that will get me removed from it.”

“My….”  Risa slumped a bit, reminding herself that she HAD no family.  “The former King would be pleased, I think, that Bhelen did not profit from murdering his oldest brother and… the exile of another.”

Harrowmont nodded.  “I think the previous king… would have liked to meet the Paragon who saved Thedas.  I am sure he would have been… most pleased with how she turned out.”

Risa looked away.  This was difficult – because of court King Pyral Harrowmont’s private study had been King Endrin Aeducan’s private study.

“I wish I had not been the end of the royal line of Aeducan,” she said softly.

“I hear,” he said, in a very slow, deliberate way, “that there is a noble hunter who has moved to your House.”

Risa met his eyes steadily.  “There is.”

“And that she is some few months from motherhood.”

“She is.”  Risa shifted uncomfortably.  “However.”

Harrowmont watched her carefully.

“The child poses no threat to anyone,” she said quietly.  “And I would ask a favor, if I may.”

Harrowmont nodded.

“I would suggest, perhaps, that such a child… might do well to be fostered under the care of a kind and benevolent – and thus far childless – king.  When the child is old enough.  If His Majesty has no issue of his own.

“And if that is not… suitable?”

“Then as a warrior of House Warden, he would of course support his king in all things,” Risa said quietly.

“I take it House Aeducan is unaware of this… issue.”

“Quite unaware.  Keeps the shifty bastards from getting any bright ideas,” she said grimly.

Harrowmont leaned forward and clanked his tankard against hers.  “Well played,” he said, then sipped his ale.

* * *

 

“I d-d-don’t know why you would have wanted th-th-that particular material for it, but it came out b-better than I thought.”  Garin placed a small pouch into Loghain’s hand.

“It has… sentimental value.”  The grey warden loosened the drawstring and looked inside.

“I-i-i-is it as you wished?”

“Quite.”  He pulled the drawstring tight again, and placed the small pouch in his belt pouch, counting out five sovereigns for the Dwarf.

“O-oh no, ser… i-it was only….”

“Consider it a token of esteem… and, perhaps, a promise of future work.”

“Th-thank you, ser.  Most generous!”

With a slight smile, Loghain headed back towards the Warden estate.


	64. Miles to Go

“To be perfectly honest,” Loghain said with a sigh, “I’m glad to be above ground again.”

“To be perfectly honest,” Risa responded, “so am I.  That makes me a pretty poor dwarf, I suppose, but I’ve gotten too used to sunrise, sunset... days… nights… weather…..”

The Wardens mounted their horses, which had been stabled near the gates of Orzammar, and began the long, slow walk back toward Gherlen’s Pass and The Bannorn.

“Will Rica and her child be safe?”

“I daresay Gorim and Leske will protect them:  it’s a matter of honor.  They are all Wardens now.”  Her onyx eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Why not House Risa,” Loghain mused.

“Sounded ridiculous to me.  Really, would you want to go around hearing people talking about ‘Team Loghain?’”

His crows feet crinkled slightly, and the corner of his mouth drew up into a smirk.  “Point taken.”

“I also thought it best to make sure no one forgets the Wardens and how important they are.”  She glanced at Loghain, her eyes apologetic.  “It could have saved us all a great deal of trouble.”

He nodded.  There really need be nothing more said of it; his distrust of the Wardens had nearly destroyed his beloved Ferelden.

“I’ll be glad to get back to the Keep,” she said quietly, then bit her lip.

“But?”

She looked over at him.  “Sorry?”

“But.  You may not have said it, but you were thinking it rather loudly.”  He kept Traveler at a slow walk beside Milady.

“I didn’t mention our little collaborative project to Harrowmont,” she said after a few minutes.  “He was already… hm, concerned, I suppose… about the appearance of me bringing only you to  Orzammar.”

Loghain seemed amused.  “Ah.  Prurient rumors reached the royal ear?”

“Evidently.”

“And they did not include your hound?  Pity.”

“Loghain, be serious.”

“I am.”    He raised a hand in surrender.  “Given that we engaged in no public displays, this is nothing more than the rumor mill at work, no doubt.  I’m curious, though: why didn’t you confide in Harrowmont?  Forgive me, but he strikes me as an old friend.”

“An old and very VERY conservative one.  And… in truth… I was afraid to upset him any more than my radical views on recruitment into House Warden already had.”  She guided Milady closer to Loghain, and reached out to touch his shoulder.  “Besides… this is no foregone conclusion, Longshanks.  Under the best of circumstances… sometimes babies don’t take a firm hold… with our taint thrown into the mix….”  She looked very worried as she said it, and Loghain could not miss how unconsciously, she’d brought her rein arm protectively across her abdomen as she spoke.

“A product of the Mac Tirs and the Aeducans?” he scoffed, stroking her cheek affectionately.  “Risa, we’re both the most tenacious bastards I know.  How can our offspring be otherwise?”

She smiled, but he didn’t miss the sadness in her eyes.  “You’re correct, no doubt.”

“Risa.”  He kissed the top of her head.  “Come. We’ve miles to cover before we sleep.”

* * *

 

 

“Do you want to stop in Denerim on the way back,” Risa asked, as she lay beside Loghain, her head pillowed on his chest.  The room at the Spoiled Princess was small, but clean, and Risa was sure Loghain appreciated “normal” sized furniture again.

“Why, do you?”

She looked at his chest, her nimble fingers stroking the hair sprinkled across it gently.  “Well.  You know.  Visit the queen, perhaps.”  She looked up at him.  “I know you must worry.”

“About her health, yes, occasionally.  It would be nice, but I _don’t_ believe I am the most welcome person in Denerim.”

She stroked his abdomen, and he gently grasped her hand, holding it still.  She gave him a lopsided grin, and stopped.  “Well, it _would_ certainly be proper for us to stop at the Warden compound and make sure all there is in order.”

“The compound that is _attached to the palace_ , you mean.”

“ _Is_ it?  I hadn’t really thought about it before.”  A mischievous smile curved her lips.

He tightened his hold around her shoulders for a moment, giving her a one-armed hug.  “Minx,” he rumbled.

She raised an eyebrow.  “Minx, is it?”  With a wicked grin, she slid her hand down his stomach, enjoying how the muscles there quivered under her touch.

He smiled, and rolled on top of her, kissing the tip of her nose.  “Someone isn’t very tired, I see.”

 

 


	65. Alone in the Dark

Risa was running full tilt through the Deep Roads, her heart pounding in her ears, unable to remember how she’d even gotten here.  She could hear her breath rasping as she risked a look over her shoulder.

There was a group of Genlocks chasing her, and a Hurlock with them whose face was painted to resemble a skull.  That alone was worrying, but when he spoke, her heart nearly stopped.

“She is the one we are to be getting!  The surface she must not gain!”

Risa gasped, and barely dodged a Hurlock who had appeared suddenly from a corridor on her right.  She shied away like a frightened horse, and plunged down another corridor – this one leading down.

She didn’t know where she was, or why she was alone.  All she knew was that she MUST NOT allow herself to be caught _… must not_.  To be caught – a woman – would be death and WORSE than death.

She rounded a bend and there, _oh Ancestors be praised_ , there was Alistair charging toward her, sword drawn and shield unlimbered, bellowing his war cry at the ‘spawn on her heels.  She could have sobbed with relief to see him racing to the rescue one more time.

As he drew even with her, even as she was turning to fight at his side, the shield swung out and slammed her against the wall, stunning her and knocking her clear off her feet.  She went down with a cry of pain and disbelief, and looked up into his eyes- cloudy and cruel as he gazed down upon her.

“If you’d be a mother to a monster’s spawn, be a mother to _all_ of them,” he spat, and she felt the loathsome, cold, rough hands seize her, dragging her back into the darkness as she screamed and fought and begged….

* * *

 

 

“Risa…. Risa!”

One moment, Loghain had been peacefully asleep, and the next he had fetched a particularly painful kick in the ribs and a wild punch in the jaw.  Beside him, Risa was flailing about, grunting and crying out incoherently, panicked and caught up in tangled sheets.  Her eyes snapped open, unseeing, and she thrashed, moaning, “Please…. Please….”

He tried to shake her and caught a glancing blow to his shoulder, and finally he managed to wrap his arms around her and pull her close against his chest, curling himself around her back and murmuring her name into her ear.  He shushed her gently, stroking her hair awkwardly as he held her tight.  Gradually her struggles lessened, and she was left shuddering in his arms, her face wet with tears and her body damp with perspiration.  He didn’t need the buzzing of her taint in his head to tell him she was terrified – had he the sensitive nose of a Mabari, the stink of her fear would have filled the room.

“Hush…. Risa…..”  He kissed her gently behind one ear, loosening his grip and stroking her back in long, soothing caresses as her limbs lost their rigidity and she began to relax.

When she wriggled and tried to turn toward him in his arms, he let her.  She snuggled into him, her breath still ragged, her face buried in the crook of his neck, and her arms around his neck.

He kept stroking her back in long, soothing motions.  “Bad dreams?”

She flinched at the echo of Alistair’s question to her when she’d first Joined the Wardens.  “Ancestors,” she said breathily, shuddering against him.

He waited until the shudders eased into trembling, and asked gently, “Want to talk about it?”

“We need to find out more about those talking darkspawn,” she said quietly.

He nodded, and just kept holding her and caressing her.

“I… I was in the Deep Roads, alone.  They were chasing me… saying I wasn’t to be allowed to get away.  Me, personally.  And I was running….”  She shuddered convulsively, and he shushed her gently.

“And… and then they caught me.”

He sensed there was more to it, and simply looked her in the eye.

She shivered, and looked away.  “I… dreamt the King was there too.  And he… he didn’t help me.”

Loghain kissed her forehead.  He refrained from commenting that he wasn’t surprised – Alistair had abandoned her in the face of the archdemon as well.

“Dwarva don’t dream,” she said shakily by way of explanation, and curled into him more tightly.

“I don’t doubt that this was influenced by darkspawn,” he rumbled quietly.  “I also don’t doubt that your anxiety over what my fool son-in-law might think about you… us… also colored this dream.”

“I was all alone,” she said very quietly, “and they caught me…”

Dog whined at that, and climbed onto the bed, putting himself at her back, a solid, comforting presence.  He offered Loghain an apologetic shoulder lick before settling down.

“You’re not alone,” Loghain murmured.  “Sleep.  Dog and I won’t let anything happen to you.”


	66. Meanwhile, Back at Vigil's Keep

"Is she going to be ok?" Oghren was following Anders tenaciously through Vigil's Keep, his armor clanking ominously in the healer's wake. "Is it a _serious_ illness?"

"Oghren," Anders said, striding through the great room, "You know I can't discuss someone else's health with you – patients need to trust that their healers…."

Anders wasn't even sure what, exactly, had happened. One moment he was walking, and the next he was on his back with a furious dwarf choking him by the neck hole of his robes.

"Sparkle-fingers," Oghren was growling dangerously, "The Warden-Commander… she's the _only_ person _in_ or _on_ this world who ever believed in me – and made me believe in _myself_ , to boot. I don't give a _damn_ about her titles or any of that junk – she's _family_ to me, and beyond. So I'm only gonna ask you one more time. **_Is the Commander gonna be okay?_** " There was rage in his blue eyes – and a good deal of fear, as well.

"Oghren!" Anders managed to fill his lungs as the grip on his robes was torn away, and there was Nathaniel and Sigrun both, pulling Oghren off of him.

Anders scrambled to his feet. " _Maker_ , Oghren…"

The red-headed dwarf lunged at him again. "You didn't see her, gettin' carried off that roof broken and battered after fighting that damned demon! You didn't see her more than half-dead…"

" _Calm down_ ," Sigrun said, pulling him away. "You _know_ he can't tell you anything… _The Commander_ will tell you what's what if she wants to…"

Anders rubbed his throat as Nathaniel put his arm around his shoulders, steering him in the opposite direction from Oghren and Sigrun. "Take a walk with me."

As they strolled outside, Anders coughed. "You know I can't say anything about her health…"

"I know. I know. We worry though. She's not exactly communicative about herself."

Anders looked at Nathaniel from the corner of his eye, and sighed. "No… no, she's not." He gave Nathaniel a measuring look. "Didn't you _hate_ her when she got here?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "I misjudged her. And before you bring up the Howe bow – no, it wasn't just that. She could have had me hanged – and to be honest, I wouldn't have cared then."

"So what changed?"

Nathaniel stopped. "The way she throws herself between her Wardens and danger. The way she puts herself between commoners, nobles and villains and danger. Her interest in keeping this keep running like a well-oiled machine. The way she treats every one of us." He smiled, slightly. "The way she can be brutally cold one when it's warranted, and the genuine warmth and respect she shows the pages and messengers."

Anders nodded thoughtfully.

"Do you know… I don't think any of us has given her a gift, for all she's given us plenty." Nathaniel looked disturbed by that. "I don't know why none of us have ever considered that."

"Perhaps we can remedy that," Anders said, looking significantly over his shoulder. "Perhaps that'll give people something else to focus on before _my_ neck gets broken."


	67. Rumors

"Hey, Anders."

The blond mage was lying on his bed, dangling his kitten, Ser Pounce a Lot, over his head. He lowered the orange tabby to his chest and looked over at his open door to see Sigrun standing there.

"Sigrun. Finally succumbed to my charms?"

She grinned cheekily. "I would have – but I see I've been replaced in your heart by a kitten."

Anders stroked Pounce. "Never!" he said with a pout. He rolled on his side to face her, his unbound golden hair falling across his shoulder like a mane.

Sigrun crossed to him, picking up Pounce and sitting cross-legged on the floor, stroking the kitten. She shifted up against the side of the bed, grinned mischievously, and leaned up to breathe into his ear.

"So…" she said in a low, sexy voice.

"Hmmmm?" Anders practically purred as he bent over the edge of the bed, his lips so close to hers he could feel her body heat.

"…when'd you knock the Commander up?"

Anders' eyes snapped open, and he scrambled to a sitting position. _"What?!"_

Sigrun cocked her head at him, giving him a saucy grin. "Well, when _was_ it?"

"Sigrun, that's…. that's just… preposterous!" He got up, hoisting Pounce out of her arms, and stroking the kitten nervously.

"Really?" She started counting off on her fingers. "One, you are ALWAYS flirting with her. Two, you're always FEEDING her, and bringing her wine. Three, your room is right down the hall – so, opportunity AND motive. Four, I've seen your spicy shimmy. Five, she gives you a pussy… cat." She grinned cheekily. "Gotta love the symbolism in that!"

"And what does any of that have to do with anything? Sure, I flirt with her but…." He sputtered. "And where do you get the idea she's _pregnant_!?"

"Oh, come on now, she's not eating, and us Wardens with appetites like starving Ogres… she's sleeping a lot and still tired… her armor's starting to get tight in the top… she fainted during sparring practice… and I've seen her go green when smelling something pungent like eggs or cabbage or broccoli. If she's not broody, no one is." She winked at him. "You _guys_ might be oblivious to the signs, but it doesn't mean us _girls_ are."

"Sigrun, really, there are any number of reasons for those symptoms –"

"Yeah. Not buying it." She gave him a careful look. "If it _meeps_ like a nug, and it _hops_ like a nug, and it _smells_ like a nug… though I gotta say, that 'what the Fade!' reaction of yours when I said it was yours was kinda convincing…. I mean I know you like dwarves…"

Anders blushed a little. Yes, he liked dwarves… he'd liked Sigrun a _lot_ one evening when they both had been more than a little bored. "Well, I like _you_ …" he said putting on a charming grin.

Sigrun was not to be put off. "Was it Nate? Oh man, I bet it was! I mean, you ever see them at Archery practice?" Sigrun stopped dead. "Wow, I mean… what's Weisshaupt gonna say? Hell, what's the ASSEMBLY gonna say?"

"They're not going to say anything, because there is nothing for them to know about," Anders said.

"Maybe it was Dworkin or Voldrick. I mean I know it's not _Oghren_ … but at least if it's a _dwarf_ the Assembly won't try to shit itself to death…."

Anders sighed. "Maker, I need a drink…."


	68. The Surprises are Multiplying

Varel nodded and sent the messenger to the mess to rest and have something to eat and drink.  The missive he carried bore the royal seal; as it was addressed to “Arlessa Risa Aeducan”, he simply walked it into her office and laid it on her desk.

* * *

 

Anders, Sigrun, Oghren and Nathaniel walked into Amaranthine’s market together, looking around.

“I’m not quite sure what the Commander might like,” Anders said quietly, sticking close to Nathaniel.  He was still a bit nervous about being in public after Rylock and the Templars had tried to kill him, claiming him as an apostate rather than a Grey Warden and out of their jurisdiction.  He and the moody archer weren’t particularly close friends, but Anders knew that with Risa and Loghain away, Nathaniel would make sure he was escorted safely.

“I’m gonna get her a real good bottle of Antivan brandy!” Oghren bellowed.  “Girl deserves some good drink!”

Sigrun looked at Anders and raised her eyebrow, but said nothing.  Anders looked away.

“She’s been using that same worn bow that she picked up at Ostagar for years now… I’d like to get one more suited for her,” Nathaniel said.  “I’ve measure the height of hers and tried its draw – I think I should be able to select one a bit more powerful for her.”  He looked at Sigrun.  “What do you think you’ll get her?”

Sigrun snorted.  “Guys.  All you think about is weapons and stuff.  I’m gonna get her some girly pampering stuff.  Maybe lotions and soaps.  We’ll see.  There’s supposed to be a merchant here who carries all that…”

“Nathaniel?”

The four wardens turned to see a young woman with dark hair and grey eyes exactly the same shade as Nathaniel’s step out from behind a market stall containing perfumes, oils, salts, soaps and lotions.  Nathaniel’s eyes widened and Anders, Sigrun and Oghren saw something they had never seen before – a wide, surprised smile.

“Delilah?  Delilah, is that you!?”

“Nathaniel!”

The broody archer swept toward the woman and in three steps he’d pulled her up into his arms, swinging her around in a delighted circle while the woman laughed and hugged him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder.  He set her down on her feet lightly, kissing her cheek, and held her out at arm’s length, his eyes drinking her in as if he couldn’t believe he was seeing her.

She let her hands slide down from his shoulders along his arms until she took him by the hands.  “Let me look at you…. Oh, Nathaniel, you’ve grown!”

He grinned at her.  “I should think so – eight years in the Free Marches will do that to you.”

Their reunion was interrupted by a belch of prodigious proportions.  “So who’s the girl, Howe,”  Oghren grunted.

“Classy,” Anders said to Oghren, then turned, bowing his head slightly toward the girl.  “If I may be so bold, Nathaniel… would you mind introducing me to your lovely…..”

“Sister,” the woman supplied with a smile.

“Sister….?”  Anders smile lit up his whole face.

“Delilah, may I present Anders, Sigrun, and Oghren, all of whom are Grey Wardens.  This is my sister, Lady Delilah Howe.”  He fixed Anders with a scowl that told him he’d BETTER behave, then turned back to Delilah.  “What happened?  Where are you living?  Did they turn you out of the Keep?”  He scowled at the idea.

“No, Nathaniel, I left of my own volition.”  Delilah sobered.  “You… you weren’t here to see what Father became…. I was glad to leave the Keep, to be honest – what he did during the Civil War… and to the Couslands….”

Nathaniel’s face fell.  “So it’s true?”  He looked as if he’d been slapped, then shook his head.  “Delilah, where do you live?  What has become of you?”

She smiled, and it transformed her face utterly.  “I’ve married, Nathaniel… my husband, Albert, owns this stall….”

Nathaniel looked horrified.  “Del, come back to the Keep… I’m sure the Commander would put you up until we can…. Well, find a suitable arrangement for you…”

The woman laughed lightly.  “Oh, Nathaniel, thank you for trying to look out for your little sister, but I love Albert.”  She looked at her brother and his companions and smiled.  “Oh, let me get someone to watch the stall for me – give me a moment, brother….”

Sigrun grinned.  “Hey, why don’t you two go chat – I want to browse your goods anyhow.  When you’re done, we’ll do some bargaining.” 

Delilah smiled at the dwarf.  “Done,” she said.

* * *

 

Nathaniel looked happy but stunned as they walked away from the market, each with a package.  Sigrun had a basket filled with “girly stuff” she’d bought from Delilah – at a Grey Warden discount.

“I’m going to be an uncle,” Nathaniel said in a tone that sounded nearly reverent.  “Me, an uncle!”

“Good thing you’ve got the pages to practice you’re ‘I’m the COOL adult’ wiles on,” Anders grinned.  “By the time little Delly or Ally Jr  makes their appearance, you’ll be irresistible.”

“Shut up, Anders,” Nathaniel said – with a huge grin.


	69. Moonlight on the Water

Risa took care of building the fire as Loghain hobbled the horses near a small pond. It was odd to be making camp without an entourage of a dozen other warriors, mages and rogues.

When he got back from hobbling the horses, they put the tent up and began to put together dinner. They moved together as a well-oiled machine, and Risa smiled to herself a little. They really did work well together, each anticipating the other's needs and abilities. There was more comfort in their easy silence than in the nervous chatter that often had characterized camp during the Blight years.

As he moved past her to finish raising the tent, Risa got up to get water for the evening meal. As she bent over the pond, she caught sight of her reflection and paused, biting her lip.

She couldn't see any difference in her reflection – not yet – and she let one hand slide down over her abdomen. She'd probably not begin to really show for another month or two, though anyone who knew her well might catch on to her slight increase in breast size.

She sighed, shaking her head, and went to one knee to dip the pot in the pond. _Hey, in there. I don't know rightly how you managed to get started… or what you did to deserve parents like us… but hang in there and stay a while, k?_

When she dipped the pot in the pond, it caused ripples. When she stood and looked as the surface stilled, she realized someone was standing behind her. She gasped and started to whirl, and found the pot being lifted out of her hands.

"Steady," Loghain said gently, resting his hand on her shoulder.

"How do you DO that?" she groused as he gave her a faint smile.

"Practice."

They walked back to the fire together, and put together a simple stew. Risa ate listlessly, staring off into the middle distance, clearly distracted.

* * *

 

" _Risa_."

She looked up at Loghain then, her eyes meeting his icy gaze. "Sorry," she said quietly. "Just… thinking."

"Thinking?" he asked. "Or worrying?"

She shrugged. "Both."

"Regarding?"

"The Ancestors' sense of humor," she said wryly. "Worry about being a lousy mother… then worry about the taint and NOT being a mother at all.…" She bit her lip nervously.

He was silent for a while as he mulled that over. "Somehow, the King managed to get himself a son."

"Yes, but the _Queen_ is not tainted…."

Loghain sat beside her. "We'll have Anders keep a close eye on you. Perhaps there is something he can do to improve your chances. And you did spare that horror up on Soldier's Peak – Avernus. Perhaps he can offer some insight." He paused. "I'd rather not involve Weisshaupt. Too many questions already about how we both managed to survive. I don't want them getting 'interested' in our offspring or acting as if it's a Grey Warden and under their jurisdiction."

She nodded, leaning into his side. It didn't do much to smooth the worry from her face.

He put his arm around her, holding her close, and kissing the top of her head tenderly. With a sigh, he reached into his belt pouch carefully. "Close your eyes, Risa."

She gave him a worried look - she couldn't help feeling suspicious. With Dwarva, suspicion was a way of life. He merely smiled and kissed the side of her head until her curiosity got the better of her and her eyes slid shut.

She felt him take her hand, and felt something cool slip onto her finger.


	70. Full Circle

Risa’s eyes snapped open and she looked down at her hand, then back up at Loghain, wide-eyed with surprise.

“Let me know if you intend to deprive me of a kidney,” he rumbled, the crows feet at the corners of his eyes deepening slightly as he teased. 

Risa looked into his eyes searchingly, then back down.  She looked back at him, and there was something very vulnerable in her eyes.

“Do you know what that is?” he prompted gently.

Risa started to nod, then shook her head.  For once, she had been rendered speechless.

“Risa….”  He cupped her cheek.

She looked at her hand again.  He had slipped onto her finger a band of silverite, with an incised flowing scroll pattern in it that was glowing a soft blue.  She looked at it, turning the ring, and her cheeks stained a faint pink.

“There’s an inscription,” he said quietly.

“A light in the darkness,” she read softly, and looked up at him.

“I am not particularly good at this,” he said gruffly.  “I never have been.  When it came down to it and everything seemed darkest for Ferelden, there you were, standing alone against the Archdemon, a beacon of hope in the midst of a maelstrom.  And when the Landsmeet had turned on me earlier, howling for my death, _there you were_ , standing alone between me and oblivion… between me and _your own people_.”  He stroked her hair gently, his ice-blue eyes speaking volumes about what he knew she’d sacrificed that day. 

“You are the light in the darkness,” he said simply.  “You led Ferelden to victory, and you’ve begun to drag me toward redemption in the eyes of Ferelden… and if you’ll let me, I’ll stand beside you, whatever time we have.”  He shut his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers.  “Do me the honor, Risa.  Let me stand at your side.  You’ve been Ferelden’s sword against the darkness.  Let me be _your_ shield.”

Risa knelt beside him and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as she trembled violently.  He could feel hot tears soaking into the neck of his tunic.

“The King,” she said in a small, choked voice, “is going to have a fit of apoplexy.”

“Let him,” Loghain rumbled dangerously.  “He has no jurisdiction over Wardens.”

“The Queen….”

He took her by the elbows and gently put her at arm’s length.   “ _Forget_ the King.  Forget the _Queen_.  Forget Harrowmont, the Assembly, _and_ the First Warden.  What do _you_ say, Risa Aeducan?”

She bit her lip.  “It’s not because my reputation would be in shreds, being unmarried and a mother?”

“Maker, no, though I can’t truthfully say our child’s not a consideration.”  He cupped her cheek.  “Your reputation may be… _will_ no doubt be somewhat battered by virtue of entwining your fate with _mine_.”

“And this isn’t some stupid noble gesture… because you feel responsible, somehow…?”

He chuckled.  “Woman, you are _maddening_.  You are no responsibility… no burden.  In truth, _I’m_ the one who’s no prize to be sought -- the barbarous, up-jumped commoner – Maric’s butcher.”

“Well,” she said softly, “I suppose we suit then… the butcher and the kinslayer.”  She managed a watery smile then.

“Well, then,” he said, the corner of his mouth raising slightly as he gently wiped her tears with the backs of his fingers, "We must settle things between us, one way or the other, or neither of us will be able to get any work done. So. What is it to be?"

She smiled brilliantly, hearing him repeat the words that had so shakily begun their partnership. “Yes.”


	71. Changes

Nathaniel Howe knocked at the Warden Commander’s office door, even though it was open. and even though he knew he was expected.  Apparently Risa and Loghain had ridden in from their trip to Orzammar rather late the previous evening, and first thing this morning had dispatched Alaina the page to collect him on his way down to breakfast.  He couldn’t imagine what was so urgent Risa would want to see him at such an early hour.

“Come,” Risa called, and when he stepped in he was pleasantly surprised to see that a huge breakfast had been laid in her office.  She gestured to him to take a seat, and a few moments later, Loghain joined them.

Eating, especially for Wardens, was serious business, and so the three of them demolished the meal with some quiet conversation regarding the weather, what the two senior Wardens had seen on the road, and how the pages had been behaving in their absence.

After breakfast was a memory, Nathaniel gave his formal report on the Vigil and Warden business, knowing full well that Varel would be giving her a report on the non-Warden members.  Risa and Loghain both listened without comment, except to nod in places, or to glance at each other.

“I can’t imagine any of this was so critical as to warrant a breakfast meeting, though,  Commander,” Nathaniel said with obvious curiosity.  “I certainly could have told you during the ‘war council’.”

“You could, but there was another purpose in calling you here, Nathaniel,” Risa said quietly.

Loghain cleared his throat and said quietly, “I’ll be taking over as Acting Commander, for a time, and the Commander will concentrate on her duties as Arlessa.  I would like to ask you to act as second in command, Howe.”

“I see….”  He didn’t really, but he wanted to hear what the two senior Wardens were up to.

“I won’t be going out into the field for the next six or seven months, if I can help it,” Risa said.  “And after that… well, I’m thinking a change in the command structure is probably appropriate.”  She shrugged.  “We didn’t want to put you on the spot at the war council.  And I fervently hope you’ll say yes.”

“Not that I’m not flattered, Commander,” Nathaniel said formally, “but why?”

“Because it would be inappropriate,“ Loghain said coolly, “for the Commander to be in a position where she has to give me orders.”

“Well, but that would only be true if…”  He trailed off, glancing between the two of them.  “Oh.  Oh, I see.” 

Nathaniel sat, sipping his tea as he gave this new further thought, and he glanced over at Risa sharply.  “And you’re removing yourself from field work as well….”

“Yes.  Unless the situation is dire.”

“When is it not?” Loghain murmured.  Nathaniel had to agree.

Nathaniel’s sharp gray eyes rested on Risa for a time, and he nodded.  “I accept,” he said quietly.

“Thank the Ancestors,” she said fervently.  “You were out first, and really, only choice, Nathaniel.  I don’t know what we’d have done had you said no.”

“Chosen Sigrun,” he said without hesitation.

Risa shook her head.  “As a commander of troops, yes.  But what’s needed in this case is also someone who’s familiar with the political and social lay of the land.  Let’s be honest:  both figuratively and literally, you were born to lead here, in Amaranthine.”

Nathaniel’s eyes flashed for a moment there, and Risa raised a hand to try to forestall whatever ire was likely to spill from his lips.  “I won’t be here forever, Nathaniel.  My thought is to make sure that by the time it comes up, no one can imagine anyone replacing me except you.”

“So… sneakily restoring my birthright?”

“Putting the best man forward for the job,” Risa said firmly.

Nathaniel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “This plot is practically Orlesian.”

“Pfft!” Risa snorted, even as Loghain’s eyes flashed.  “Clearly you know _nothing_ of Dwarva politics.”

 


	72. Dark Magic

Risa sat at her desk, reading the letter that Varel had left there for her to peruse.  As soon as she opened it and read it, she felt a headache blooming behind her eyes.

She was being ordered to Denerim.  Anniversary Day.  Parades and Celebrations in honor of the archdemon’s spectacular demise on top of Fort Drakon.  Speeches and parades and music and dance.  Her attendance, as guest of honor, was required, not requested.

_Shards and stone._

Oghren, of course, was also required to make an appearance, as was Loghain, as they were part of the Blight Companions.  She was already bracing for the argument; Loghain would _insist_ that they take Anders with them.  She was firmly of the opinion that they should not take more than half of the Wardens with them.    If Nathaniel and Sigrun ran into trouble while she was gone, they’d _need_ Anders – and she’d have access to royal healers in Denerim.

Of course, should the healers need to examine her for any reason, the cat would be well and truly out of the bag and wouldn’t THAT just be peachy.  If the Denerim gossip mill was anything like the Ozammar gossip mill, the tale would be told in no time.

There was a knock at the door, and she glanced up.  Anders.  Funny how he seemed to show up just when she was thinking of him…

“Commander,” he said, stepping into the room.  “Just… stopping by, checking in you.”

She nodded, and got up from her desk.  “Where do you want me?”

Anders grinned cheekily at that.  “Bit late for that, don’t you think?”

“Anders, don’t be an ass,” she growled, then stepped back, sighing.  “Sorry.  Moody bitch, coming through.”

“You’re entitled.”  He put the door to, so that it was nearly but not quite all the way shut, then knelt beside her, letting his magic flow over her.

Risa stood perfectly still, eyes shut, trying to relax.  She HATED being fussed over, but she was pretty sure this would be her one and only chance to have a child.  She didn’t even understand how it was possible, to be honest.

“Well,” said Anders wearily after twenty minutes of concentrating on making his magic work on her, “Looks like everything is in order.”

“Yes?”

“Well, everything seems to be proceeding normally….”  He got up, dusting off his robes.  “How are you feeling?”

“Aside from nauseous?” she grumbled.

“Yeah, that’ll take a while to sort out.  It’s good news though – it means you’re making all the changes necessary for the little Warden to stick around.”  Anders looked thoughtful.  “If you, ah, wanted to announce the upcoming event, it should be ok to do it in a couple weeks.” 

She realized that he wasn’t going anywhere, and gave him a look.  “Yes?”

“Um, what I’m curious about is how this all happened.”

Risa looked exasperated.  “Well, Anders, when a man and a woman love each other very much…. Or are kinda drunk… or bored… or coin’s passed hands….”

“Whoa…. _Too much information_!”

Risa paced.  “The truth is, I don’t _know_ … I was under the impression it was impossible for me.”

“Well, not impossible, obviously.  Just very, very improbable.”  Anders helped himself to a footstool and sat.  “It’s tough, according to what I’ve been reading, but a Grey Warden and a non-Warden _can_ have children.  And their offspring aren’t tainted, so you needn’t worry about that.”

Risa looked thoughtful.  “Is that all you learned?”

“Well… if you and the King had, against all odds, remained together, it would have been impossible to have a child.  Two Wardens _can’t_  have kids.”  Ander paused, the shrugged.  “Well.  Not without magical assistance, that is.”

“Magical…”

Anders nodded.  “Yes.  First of all, some kind of magic to increase fertility – and then possibly some kind of magic that would help isolate the taint in the blood…”

Risa went pale for a moment.

 

* * *

 

_“Maker!  Risa…. Risa, speak to me!”_

_Risa heard Alistair shouting somewhere very far away as she lay on the ground, shuddering, her body wracked with pain.  She dimly saw the shattered remnants of a jar beside her…._

_And as suddenly as the convulsions had begun, they ended, and she found herself pulled into a sitting position against Alistair’s side, his cloak wrapped around them both. She shivered, teeth chattering._

_Magic flowed over her, and even as she felt the cool, soothing touch of it, she knew Wynne was near.  “Whatever that fit was, Alistair, it’s passed.  She doesn’t seem any the worse for wear”_

_If anything, as she warmed up again, she felt stronger…_

_“Don’t EVER  do that to me again,” Alistair was scolding, clearly worried out of his mind.  “What… possessed you to grab an ancient unknown bottle of who knows what and drink it down!?”_

_“Oooh.  Next time I’ll think that one through better.” She’d joked feebly.  But the truth of the matter was that now that it hadn’t killed her, the potion that Avernus had created did seem to have changed her… she could sense Alistair far more clearly now, and she felt as if her stamina and speed had suddenly increased._

_“Are all dwarva crazy, or just you?”  he’d asked, hugging her tightly._

_“Whatever is necessary to end the blight…” she said, handing him Avernus’ research notes._

* * *

 

“Huh,” Risa said, thinking.  It seemed Avernus’ potion had had some interesting side effects.  But was the power of her blood enough to have made this pregnancy possible?

 

 

 

 


	73. Of Cats and Bags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Visit to Avernus opens a feline containment unit.

“So, do you think we should tell the King and Queen that we’re getting married,” Risa asked nervously as she checked Milady’s tack, “or should we elope and keep our lives as uncomplicated as possible?”

“To be quite honest, the idea of eloping is rather appealing… however, knowing my daughter, that will be deemed _completely_ unacceptable.”  Loghain looked somewhat pained.  “There will be _rather_ a large fuss made either way, I’m afraid.”

Risa looked a little nauseous , although that could be attributed to her ‘delicate condition’ as well as to worry.  “I’m more afraid of the _king_ making rather a large fuss,” she admitted, “and that you’ll be the subject of nasty gossip because of… well, me being… me.”

Loghain snorted rather inelegantly.  “I have long since given up caring what the nobility thinks of me, and it’s impossible for me to care any less about what _this_ king thinks.  I valued _Maric’s_ opinion of me while he lived.  I am glad to have Anora’s good opinion, of course… and yours.” 

“By the Ancestors’ hairy balls, do we HAVE to travel on horseback?”  Oghren grumbled, coming out of the Keep with his pack over his shoulder.

“You want to walk?” Risa asked.  “Remember that?  The long, tiring days… tired feet… the stench from our boots….”

“Hey, you learned to like riding, Commander,” Oghren groused.  “Me, not so much.”

Risa mounted Milady, then walked the horse over to Oghren with her left stirrup left long.  She reached down and grabbed his wrist as he put his foot on top of hers and grabbed the saddlehorn with  his left hand.  With a smooth pull from her and a jump from Oghren, he swung up behind her, grumping all the way.

After she’d shortened her left stirrup and Oghren had put his arms around her, Risa glanced back at Loghain, who nodded to her stonily. 

As they rode out to the crossroads and Risa turned north, Oghren frowned. “Uh, Commander… not that I want to tell you your business or anything… but Denerim is south and east of here.”

“I know.”  Risa said, glancing back at Loghain.  “We’ll hit Soldier’s Peak on the way.”

Loghain raised an eyebrow.

“But Soldier’s Peak isn’t ON the sodding way… it’s in the opposite direction!”

Loghain brought Traveller up beside Milady.  “To Soldier’s Peak, then.”

* * *

 

 

Avernus looked at Risa with an avarice that made her feel rather nervous, though she managed to resist stepping back behind Loghain.  “Commander, good to see you again.  To what do I owe the pleasure?  Have you considered my request for a sample of your blood?”

“I’ve come to ask you a question, actually.  About your potion.”

Avernus snorted.  “You read the research yourself, commander, and you’ve sampled it.  Surely you’ve noted the effects?”

“Some of them, yes… but I wanted some clarification, if I might…”

“Well, what have you noticed, then.”  Avernus looked impatient at her hesitation.  “Speak!”

“Greater speed and dexterity.  I’m a good deal stealthier than I was.  And my blood…”  She glanced at Loghain and Oghren a moment, then back at Avernus.  “I can will it to be poisonous, coat my blade with it.”

Avernus nodded.  “Surely you’ve also noticed an abatement in the progression of the taint?”

Risa cocked her head.  “Sorry?”

Avernus closed his eyes and extended a hand toward her glowing with orange light.  “By my calculations, you’re no more tainted – perhaps a bit _less_ – than when you…”  He trailed off, his eyes widening a moment.  “Well, well… what do we have here…?”

Risa now took a step back  She noticed Oghren had been muttering under his breath for some time now.

“This is… most unexpected.”  His eyes gleamed at the pun.  “How did you manage it?  I must know.”

Risa frowned.  “We came to ask you…. I wondered if the potion had….”

“All the potion did was unlock the potential for more potent Warden powers.  Oh, it gave you complete control over your blood and the taint in it.  The reason your blood is poison is that you can superconcentrate the taint in it.  Well, the opposite’s true as well… you can wall off that taint and manage perfectly well.”  He shook his head.  “It seems you’ve already been doing this…”  He took one more step forward, and made a grab for her wrist.

Risa stepped back.  “Hypothetically – if you were to make up another potion would it help Alistair and Anora?”

“Bah, they don’t need it.  Even I’ve heard about the impending blessed event.”

“What about if Alistair and I were still together?  I’m told two wardens couldn’t have a child together….”

Avernus looked distracted  as he stepped forward again.  “No, the potion alone wouldn’t do it.  You’d need magic – powerful magic – that would increase the  fertility of at least one of the partners.  Blood magic, the Chantry would call it no doubt.”

Loghain flinched.

Avernus and Risa both looked at him – Risa with a confused and questioning look, Avernus with a calculating one.  “So THAT’S the way of it… Commander, I really must insist on that sample now!”

Four things happened at once.

Avernus started to cast something at Risa.

Risa seemed to simply disappear and reappear halfway across the room with a startled yelp.

Loghain had swung his shield at the mage….

….and Oghren stopped muttering and with a hoarse yell, threw open his arms and slammed Avernus  arse over teakettle with a Holy Smite.

* * *

 

Risa, Loghain and Oghren rode out of Soldier’s Peak together.

“Well, I’m leaving strict orders that no Warden venture into that tower alone.  Preferable not at ALL,” Risa growled.  That grab had seemed far too much like a terrible, near omnipotent child grabbing for a toy it wanted and was angry it could not have.  The combination of Smite and shield had reminded Avernus of his manners – quickly.

“I suppose Alistair was right – templar powers can’t really be _magic_ if you can do it,” Risa mused.

“Well, I was glad enough the pike twirler taught ‘em to me.”  Oghren chuckled.  “Sure surprised HIM, didn’t it?”

Risa looked over at Loghain, confused.  “I think Avernus must have been mistaken.  I mean, sure, I’ve been healed many times, but I think I would remember had I engaged in some blood ritual….”

Loghain’s expression became even more like stone.  “We need… to talk.”

“Because he seemed to be saying that it could ne—what?!”  Risa turned around in the saddle so fast Oghren had to clutch her hard to keep from spinning to the ground.

“Whoa, easy there , Commander, you almost knocked me ---“   His eyes widened.  “By the Ancestors!  _You’re knocked up?!_ ”

Risa made a strangled noise at the back of her throat.  This was going to be an interminable ride to Denerim after all….

 

 

 

 


	74. Coming Clean

Risa, Oghren and Loghain sat at a table in the furthest corner of the Old Dancing Goat tavern, a small place about halfway between Amaranthine and Denerim on the Pilgrim’s Path.  The tension at the table was so palpable that the three Wardens were given a wide berth by the rest of the patrons.

Risa had before her a mug of small beer, and Logain and Oghren both stronger ales.  They were busily working their way through a platter of meat pasties.

“So… it is good news… yer, um, impending nuglet…?” Oghren said carefully and quietly.

Risa glanced across at him, then with barely a hesitation, nodded.  “Yes.  It’s good news.”  Her cheeks were a little pink, and her expression softened slightly.  “It is… a gift I never thought I would receive.”

Oghren nodded, and looked pointedly at her hand.  He hadn’t given the ring much thought before, but in light of the news, he gave it a long look.

“Hm.  That’s Dwarva work, if not design.”  And he looked hard at Loghain.  “And _someone_ was asking me about the best Dwarva smiths in Orzammar….”

“Yes,” Loghain said sharply. 

Oghren gave them both a measuring look, then focused on Loghain.    His eyes narrowed.  “You standing by her?”

Loghain raised an eyebrow.  “Have a care, Dwarf…”

“You two brontos can stop with the dominance display,” Risa growled.  “I’m right here, and I’m _not_ some property to be fought over or given _permission_ about.”

Oghren looked a little annoyed.  “Look, Commander….”

“I _get_ it,” she said.  “We’re not in Orzammar, I have no father or brothers or uncle to look out for me…. I get it. You’re _not_ about to act like my male family members.   I’m not about to have an arranged marriage to some Bemot or Vollney or Helmi, thanks.”  She took a sip of her small beer and set it down.  

“The king is going to be furious,” Oghren said, shaking his head.

“Which one?” Risa asked.

“ _Pick one!_ ”  Oghren put his ale down a bit more sharply than perhaps he intended, sloshing some. 

“They will simply have to learn to live with it.”  Loghain said quietly.

Oghren sighed.  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered.  “It’s like poking an Ogre Alpha with a stick… you just know it’s gonna turn on you and bite!”

Risa stood, draining her mug, and grabbed a couple of the pasties.  “Excuse me.  I think I need some air.  Dog!”

She flipped the mabari one of the meat pies, and he caught it on the fly, gobbling it in two bites, then licking his chops.  Risa then grabbed another and stormed out of the tavern.  The mabari looked at the two male wardens, snorted, took a second pie from Loghain’s hand, and followed her out.

* * *

 

 

Risa was leaning against the fence watching the goats when Dog snorted and hmmmmm’d at her.

“I feel him,” she murmured, scratching the dog’s ears.

A few moments later, Loghain strode up to the pair, and he, too, leaned againt the fence to watch the goats playing.  The difference was that he leaned against the top rail whereas Risa leaned against the next one down.

Dog wagged his tail and whined like a puppy, nosing Loghain.

“Go on inside.  Oghren and I just ordered some more pasties.”

Dog barked happily, and trotted off.

Risa watched the goats gamboling a bit longer, then sighed, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead onto her arms.  “I’m guessing… whatever we need to talk about, I’m probably not going to like.”

Loghain was quiet long enough that she thought he might not answer at all.  Then he said, slowly, “Very likely.”

She took a deep breath, and then, as he’d seen her do many times before, pulled herself upright.  She turned to face him, clearing her face of emotions and simply waiting, regarding him with obsidian eyes.

“I engaged in a ritual… I suppose you might call it a blood magic ritual.”

She cocked her head like and inquisitive little bird.  “When?”

“Redcliffe.”

She blinked.  Then she frowned.  “I… don’t understand.”

“After I left you – after you told me in no uncertain terms that you planned to die killing the archdemon… Morrigan came to me.”

“Morrigan!”  Risa looked worried.  She’d gotten along well with the apostate – and there was no denying the woman had been a stalwart companion and even a good friend.  “What did she want?”

“In part?  For you to survive.”  He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if trying to stave off a headache.  “As did I.”

Risa simply waited.

“We discussed the feasibility of tossing you in a cell in Fort Drakon.  Morrigan asked if I were truly that eager to have you slaughter the remaining guards there on your way to the archdemon.”

Risa began to frown, a little.  “So… you were willing to take the decision out of my hands….”

“It was senseless,” he said, a little defensively.  “A woman of perhaps twenty throwing her life away when there was a better choice – someone who’d lived a full life, and had some terrible mistakes to atone for….”

Her jaw tensed, and she forced herself to remain calm.  “And?”

“She knew a ritual.  One that she said would protect all three of us: Riordan, you, and me.  We could still be killed in the fight TO the archdemon, or as Riordan did, from falling from a great height.  We could still be crushed by the archdemon.  But she claimed if I underwent this ritual, we would not die in the killing of the archdemon.”

“When the tainted god’s soul sought out the nearest tainted vessel in which to be reborn, and instead got a Warden with his or her own soul…. And the two occupying the same body would annihilate each other.”

“…yes.”

She looked so weary, all of a sudden, so tired and resigned.  He could see in her eyes a terrible look, a terrible suspicion.  “Loghain… what did you do?”

“All she asked of me.   It was… not what I wished to do, but I felt I had to do it.”  He looked her straight in the eyes.  “Even then, I could not imagine a world without you in it.”

“Loghain, _what did you_ _do_?” she asked again, her voice anguished.

“I fathered a child on her, I think.”  He straightened and he told the rest in a rush.  “A tainted soul, for the archdemon’s to jump to.”

“And that… that was enough to destroy the archdemon?”  Risa looked uneasy.  “Creating a new life to be snuffed… I… I don’t know how I feel about that.”  She looked away.  “I know I did some… questionable things during the Blight, but… to create and kill an innocent…?”

“I… don’t believe it was killed.”  Loghain took a breath and told her.  “I believe she left, carrying a child… with a very old soul.” 

He raised his hand at her sharp intake of breath and stammered, “W-w-what!”

“She claimed that the soul of the Old God – untainted by the darkspawn – was what she sought.  She swore Ferelden would never see her – or the child – ever again.”  He fixed her with his gimlet stare.  “For all her foibles, did Morrigan ever strike you as one to break her given word?”

Risa  considered, then shook her head.  “And that…. That’s why I lived?”

“It was a near thing regardless, my dear.”  He stepped forward then, and cupped her cheek.

She looked up at him, brow creased with conflicting emotions.  “Balls,” she whispered.  “Do you… can you even begin to conceive what disaster this might be?!”

“Some things,” he said, echoing Morrigan’s words to him that night, “are worth preserving.”  He kissed the top of her head.  “Make of that what you will.”

He could see her emotions churning as the whole scenario and all its implications played out in her mind – anger, fear, wonder, worry… and finally she stepped back, her spine stiff and her voice accusing.  “You… in all this time you never thought to _tell me_ …. ?”

“I should have,” he admitted.  “As soon as you woke and were so worried that the Archdemon would be back since we both made it.  At first I told myself you were so fragile, physically and emotionally, that I dared not put more pressure on you.  And then… it seemed talking about something so unpleasant… served no purpose.”

She was silent a long time, then asked quietly, “Not that this hasn’t been wrenching enough, but am I to assume that this… ritual included more than sleeping with my friend?  You know.  After you had kissed ME.”

 _Ouch,_ Loghain thought.  _And not entirely undeserved_.  “She had me drink a potion she prepared, and also used magic upon me.  To increase my fertility, she said.”

Risa looked thoughtful.  “So basically… the only way this child’s conception became possible is because I happened to drink down an experimental potion, and you happened to have engaged in this ritual.”

“It seems very likely.”

She huffed out a huge breath, and punched him in the shoulder, hard. 

He refrained from rubbing it or otherwise drawing attention to the fact that she was brutally strong for her size.

“If we’re to continue like this,” she said angrily, “We need to trust each other.  And that means telling each other minor little details like fathering demon babies on one’s friends….”

“Or foolishly drinking down experimental draughts?” he replied mildly.

“I’m not talking to you,” she sniffed, headed back for the tavern.

“That will make things awkward.  There were only two rooms available for rental.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Maybe I’ll be talking to you by the time you make it to bed,” she said, and she stormed back into the tavern.

 


	75. Misery and Company

Loghain let himself into the room in which Oghren had already take up residence. Without a word, he simply took some extra blankets he had secured from the tavern owner and spread them on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Oghren had been getting into his nightshirt, and turned with barely concealed hostility. "What are you doing?"

"Making my bed," Loghain said simply, "and lying in it."

"You're sleeping on the floor."

Loghain shrugged. "It won't be the first time, nor do I suspect it will be the last."

"Why?" Oghren glared. "Not _good enough_ for her?" His belligerence challenged Loghain to reverse the statement.

"There is such a thing as propriety," Loghain said. "It would not help her reputation, would it?"

"Her _reputation_." Oghren snorted. "You're worried about that _now_ , are ya?"

Loghain raised an eyebrow, then began to remove his armor, piling it carefully in the corner. "You have something to say. Well, out with it, then."

Oghren shook his head. "If we have this out, don't 'spect it to be a 'polite conversation.'"

Loghain nodded. "Say on."

"I dunno how you _cloudheads_ view it here on the surface, but her associating with you – in Orzammar, it's a scandal. There are things _that just aren't done_!"

Loghain listened without comment.

"Bad enough to be _shaggin'_ you – some things can be ignored, or at least sneered at quietly. She goes back to Orzammar with some… some _half-human kid_ , and scandal will only be the _beginning_ of it. _She's_ a tough lady – she'll take the sneers and challenge the loudest idiots and leave them bleeding out in the Proving Grounds, and the rest will learn to keep their mouths shut around her. Her kid – well, he or she _ain't_ goin' be accepted. Not _ever_. Mixing with an inferior race…."

"Have a care," Loghain said, overly carefully.

" _You asked_." Oghren snarled.

"Very well, and you've answered." Loghain said. "Now let _me_ say on. I respect you, and understand that it is your deep and abiding affection for the Commander that has prompted you to speak to me." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I care for her very deeply and have done – and will do – _whatever_ is necessary to protect her and keep her safe. And for some unfathomable reason, the lady in question seems to think _me_ worthwhile enough that she would willingly have sacrificed her life to preserve _mine_ – and since that has not proved necessary, has decided that she wishes to spend the rest of her life with me. I can't say I understand it, but I'm glad of it, and there it is."

Oghren stared at Loghain, remembering how the then-junior warden had staggered down from Fort Drakon, drugged and disoriented, and knew what the man was saying to be true. He shook his head, growling with frustration. "Don't let her down," he said, threat dripping from every word. "She's been hurt bad enough by every other nug-humping bastard in her life."

"If I do," Loghain said calmly, "I'll expect you to cause me to regret it."

Without another word, he stripped down to his smalls and climbed into the makeshift bedroll.

* * *

Risa crawled into bed as Dog chuffed at her disapprovingly.

"What?"

Dog sat, and snorted.

Risa sat up, hugged her knees, and leaned her chin on her folded arms. "It was a major detail to avoid telling me, Dog."

Dog grumbled.

"And Morrigan…" Risa rubbed her eyes. "I know I'm being stupid, Dog, but it hurts."

Dog barked, and cocked his head.

Risa frowned. "….Sorry. I guess I'm too dumb to understand, my friend."

Dog barked, and rolled over, kicking his legs and wriggling as if getting a good belly rub.

Risa blushed. "Alistair?"

Dog bounded to his feet immediately, with a single sharp bark.

"Well, I know Anora didn't like me because of that…."

Dog poked her hard with his nose.

"Ow!" She rubbed her arm. "You mean Loghain?"

Dog licked her.

Risa looked aside. "I… don't know. If he minds, he never said. I… think he more hates the way I got treated than that we were… you know."

Dog pawed her.

She looked worried. "What if… what if his wish to see me live threatens Thedas later?"

Dog whined and lay beside the bed.

Risa blew out the lantern and rolled onto her side, pulling the sheet up over herself.

When the bed started to tremble, Dog picked up his head and leaned his chin on the mattress, his brown eyes looking with mute sadness into his mistress' face. When she turned away from him, a sharp exhale almost becoming a keening whimper, he hauled himself up onto the bed and curled up beside Risa, his square head resting on her shoulder as he whimpered softly and licked her, trying to comfort her.


	76. The Reluctant Return

The trip to Denerim was an uncomfortable one as the three wardens rode in silence:  Oghren behind Risa on Milady, his hands gripping the sides of the saddle, Risa guiding her sturdy little cob, her eyes scanning the road but her mind far off and her forehead creased with worry, and Loghain and Traveller bringing up the rear with Dog frisking at Traveller’s side.

Risa reined Milady in, slowing her walk until she was abreast of Traveller, and she looked at Loghain from the corner of her eye.  “I’m sorry,” she said softly, even as Oghren snorted with impatience and perhaps a little disgust behind her. 

“I’m sorry, “she said more firmly, looking Loghain in the eye.  “I… I was taken by surprise, and I behaved abominably.”

Loghain nodded.  “We’ll speak on this later,” he rumbled, and she caught a flash of an understanding look in his eyes.  “It was a shock, and your reaction was understandable – and appropriate.”

“If you two lovebirds are done?” Oghren growled.

Risa looked over her shoulder at Oghren, and the look in her eyes – vulnerable and pleading – stopped him cold.  “Please, old friend,” she said softly, “today will be trial enough.  Say nothing about Loghain and myself until we’ve had a chance to break the news to the king and queen ourselves.”

Oghren tried to remain gruff, but the sheer vulnerability reflected in her eyes drew a grudging concession from him.  It was their news to tell – even if that news was to cause an immense amount of trouble.

“Perhaps I should speak to Anora privately,” Loghain observe quietly.  “She’s a sensible woman, and she’ll have it in order in no time.”

They rode in silence a few more minutes, and just as Oghren shifted and started to open his mouth, Risa said quietly, “I know how immensely stupid this will sound, but… I don’t want to hurt Alistair any m—“

“Alistair!”  Both Loghain and Oghren looked at each other, surprised that they were united in that exclamation.  Oghren blundered on before Loghain got the chance to.

“Were you in a different throne room than the one I was in?  Because I heard him tell you you were quits in no uncertain terms if you took Loghain over him – and that’s all it was _ever_ gonna be – him or Loghain.”

“And I,” Loghain said, with a touch of heat that made Risa flinch and subsequently, Milady shy a little, “heard what he told you when you attempted to reason with him.  You owe him nothing, save the courtesy due a head of state.  He is not YOUR king, and he has no jurisdiction where Wardens are concerned anymore.  Even if he did – he abdicated that responsibility to _you_.  _You’ve_ been the Commander – his superior – since he dumped it all in your lap back at Ostagar.”

Risa looked at Loghain, willing him to understand.  “I conscripted you because we needed you and I wanted to give you a chance to atone – so that the people would remember you not for your errors, but for the hero you’ve been – reluctantly – your whole life.  But I also did it… because… because I knew it was all over but the shouting.”  Her cheeks stained, and she couldn’t look at Loghain.  “I _also_ did it because I knew Eamon and the nobles would be at him… and how they’d force him to cast me aside.  Unsuitable, unworthy, unmarriageable because I am not human.  No half- _dwarva_ brats for the king.”  She felt Oghren stiffen behind her, and a quick glance to her side showed her a look flashing between Oghren and Loghain that she couldn’t interpret.

“And I would not be his whore.”  It was said so quietly that at first neither Loghain nor Oghren was sure he had heard her, but then she continued.  “I know… we were… we were inseparable on the road, but that.. that was before.”  She struggled to continue.  “We _expected_ to stay together… so neither of us saw harm in it.  We would have married.  That I am sure of.  But Ferelden needed a king, and Stone support me, I gave her one.  Forced him to it.  Betrayed him….”  She couldn’t go on any longer.

“You did what was necessary to end the Blight, and to end the civil war _I_ began,” Loghain rumbled, leaning over and squeezing her shoulder.

She looked away.  “I know,” she said quietly.  “It doesn’t mean it’s any less of a bitter potion to swallow.”  She kicked Milady into a trot, pulling away from Traveller.  She couldn’t bear to discuss it any longer.

* * *

 

When they reached the gates of Denerim, Risa glanced at Loghain, her eyes reluctant.  It was so like Anders’ “I don’t want to , please don’t make me!” tragic look that he nearly laughed.

“Grey Warden compound first, then, I take it.”

 

 


	77. Moving On

Risa had actually never seen the Grey Warden compound… she and Loghain had been rushed out of Denerim so quickly after the celebrations that she'd never had the opportunity.

Now as they rode into the compound which was itself near the palace grounds, she realized that Loghain knew _exactly_ where they were going and what the layout was. She turned and gave him a questioning look.

"During the Blight year," he explained, "I had reason to… search this entire compound very carefully."

"Ya mean ya _ransacked_ it," Oghren chuckled.

"That as well. To my mind, the Wardens were out and never returning, and good riddance." He looked faintly amused at the irony of the situation.

A stable boy came on the run, and Risa, Oghren and Loghain dismounted. She fixed Loghain with a look. "We have staff?"

"We do." He led Oghren and Risa through to the living quarters as the stableboy led their horses off to the stables. There was a room for the Warden-Commander, and dorms for the rest of the Wardens.

* * *

It didn't take long.

Risa was in the tub, washing the dirt and stink of travel from her body when there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?"

"Commander. The King wishes to see you at your earliest convenience."

Risa was not so far removed from her own time living in the Royal Palace of Orzammar to mistake the import of the words. 'At your earliest convenience' meant 'get your ass into my audience chamber this minute.'

_He's not YOUR king. He has no jurisdiction over the Wardens. And even if he did still retain some connection to the Grey Wardens, he abdicated his rule over it when he dumped it into YOUR lap during the Blight Year. You're the Warden-Commander, not he._

She was in the blighted TUB, for heaven's sake.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," she called, beginning to wash her hair.

* * *

Risa strode into the little audience chamber half an hour later, her hair slicked back behind her ears and very obviously still wet.

"So glad you could join us." Alistair was standing at the window, looking out, his hands folded behind his back. She could tell from the set of his shoulders that he was annoyed with her already.

"We just rode in, your Majesty," she said quietly. "I know you're used to when we were on the road and smelled of sweat and blood and shit, but as an Arlessa and Commander of the Grey, I believe the standards are a bit… higher."

He turned around. "What I was used to…. I was used to having someone who supported me and was my right hand."

She stood at parade rest before him, feet at shoulder width, hands folded behind her back. "Perhaps your perception changed. Perhaps we had different ideas of what 'by whatever means necessary' meant." She took and released a deep breath. "I don't want to argue anymore. There's no point to us tearing at and hurting each other anymore."

He looked at her minutely, and she could see concern in his face. "How… are you? You look… well, very tired."

She was, actually… and nauseous into the bargain. "And when," she said with a tired smile, " _did_ or _will_ either of us sleep well?"

He nodded. "There's more than a fair bit of truth in that," he agreed. He walked closer to her. "Have you been… well?"

"The nightmares come more infrequently," she said quietly, "but the ones that are left are… horrific. I dream of…."

"…intelligent darkspawn," he finished. "A mad broodmother. A Hurlock Emissary. I see them as well."

She nodded. "And so you know what we're up against. Myself, and a handful of Ferelden wardens. We'll be heading out to Lake Calenhad to conscript more mages on our return trip."

His hazel eyes met her obsidian ones and held them, and Risa felt… something. Understanding, perhaps? Resolution? Forgiveness? She wasn't quite sure, but the tension, the anger seemed less intense.

"I've… given our last words some thought," he said quietly.

Risa stiffened involuntarily. "Yes?"

"You… were correct. It would have been vengeance… not justice. Murder." He took another step closer. "It would have been a very poor precedent to set. It would have made… relations with my wife much more… difficult."

She nodded.

"And with the nobility, the bannorn, and the commoners as well. Loghain is still remembered as one of the few surviving heroes of the occupation. Despite his actions from Ostagar until the Landsmeet."

"It is as you say."

He sighed. "You always were the more politically astute one. But then, you were born to it, weren't you?" He paused, then went on more quietly. "Zevran tells me you sneaked into the city for Duncan's affirmation." He rubbed the back of his neck – one of his nervous tells. "The gifts you sent were fit for a prince."

"I am very happy for you," she said, a shutter coming down behind her eyes, hiding her true feelings. There was happiness for him – and also sorrow, though not nearly as crushing as it had been that day months ago. "May he be a joy and a credit to both you and Her Majesty." She cocked her head. "How is Her Majesty faring?"

"Well." He smiled then, tentatively but genuinely. "She is ecstatic about Duncan – we both are. He's got such a strong grip – I say he'll be a warrior like his father. Anora says he'll be brilliant and a politician instead."

Risa smiled. "I daresay he'll have the best qualities of both his parents."

"So long as he hasn't the worst," Alistair said, but even so, the words seemed a gentle tease.

"So for his first nameday, shall I send him an assortment of the finest cheeses of Thedas?"

Alistair actually laughed. "Well, if _he_ doesn't appreciate them, I know his _father_ will."

Risa was horrified to realize that between one moment and the next, she had moved from laughter to tears, and she turned away quickly, rubbing at her eyes. "Sorry… sorry," she said, digging through her belt pouch for a handkerchief and wiping her nose.

"Are you well?" Alistair was close, so close she could smell the leather and woodland smell she associated with him.

"It's… it's just a relief to be able to… talk." She gave him a small smile. "Happy tears." It wasn't entirely true – her moods had been erratic to say the least. All normal, Anders had assured her, but very inconvenient and embarrassing.

He looked serious then. "Risa, I… know you did what you had to. For Ferelden. I'm… sorry. For what I said. For how it worked out."

"For what it's worth, Alistair, I'm sorry too."

"For what it's worth…."

She looked at him, horrified. _Oh Ancestors, please don't let him say he wishes we were still together – he wouldn't dare ask me to be his mistress, would he….?_

He looked at her, and the look in his eyes changed… sadder. Resigned. _Ancestors, he was going to say something horribly embarrassing… would have until he saw her reaction._

"I am so happy that you have a family now, as you always dreamed," Risa said, squeezing his hand. "May you and Anora have a castle full of beautiful babies… smart and loyal and good."

"And what of you?" he asked quietly, squeezing her fingers gently in return. "What of your own f…."

She heard him trail off, and looked at his face, following his gaze down to her hand when he'd touched something cold and hard. She could see the tiny frown as he took in the ring on her middle finger.

"I… see you have… moved on."

"We've both had to, haven't we? For the good of Ferelden."

"Yes," he said quietly. "For the good of Ferelden."

She took a deep breath.

_Soonest begun was soonest done._


	78. Private Talk

"Ancestors, _no_ …." Risa looked horrified.

"I'm afraid so," Loghain said quietly, sitting beside her and holding her hands gently in his.

"Tell me there's enough time to run off to the Free Marches," Risa groaned.

"My dear," he said softly, "you should know by now that there would be _nowhere_ far enough to escape my very capable daughter and her machinations."

Risa closed her eyes and slumped against his side, a picture of abject misery. "We should have just done it and showed up with it _a fait accompli._ "

"Don't feel," Loghain said very precisely, "that you need to use Orlesian on _my_ account."

Risa bit her lip.

"What?"

"It's… weird. I'm going to be… Alistair's mother in law?"

Loghain chuckled. "Imagine how the boy feels about that."

Risa groaned again.

"Did you tell him the other news," Loghain asked quietly.

" _Caridin's stones_ , no. Can we get through one shocking revelation at a time, please?"

Loghain raised an eyebrow. "What exactly did you tell him?"

"That I was glad for him and for Anora. That I'd moved on too. That you and I had more in common than not, and that we'd grown to care about each other in these years since we left for Amaranthine. That I wore your ring and that we'd pledged our troth."

Loghain nodded. "And his reaction –"

"We'd spoken about Anora, and Duncan, and his family, and how very lucky he was. Thank the Ancestors he saw the ring – I had the distinct feeling he was going to say how he wished things were different. Well, what could he say then? We've both moved on."

Loghain nodded. "I told Anora."

Risa groaned. "I couldn't, somehow. It was… it felt too personal."

"He would find out eventually," Loghain pointed out. "Sooner now, rather than later. Are you sure you don't want to be the one to break it to him?"

"I know." Risa looked away, considering. "And… Anora. How did she react?"

Loghain smiled faintly. "By saying she was rather unprepared to be a big sister at her age."

Risa groaned again. "And Alistair's going to be a brother-in-law as well."

Loghain's smiled faded, and he looked into Risa's eyes. "Risa. Are you ashamed of me?"

Her eyes flew wide, startled. "What? No!"

He splayed his hand across the nearly imperceptible curve of her stomach. "Are you ashamed of our child, then?"

It was such a warm and protective gesture that she shivered and snuggled closer into him. "Never," she whispered.

"Then what is it?"

Risa sighed. "I don't know. Maybe I'm being an idiot but I just feel it's _private_. Like I don't need anyone, least of all him, knowing right now. Like I don't want people thinking we felt we _had_ to join our fates, rather than we felt we _wanted_ to. Maybe I don't feel like I have to rub in his face that I'm _sleeping_ with you."

She looked up at Loghain. "Maybe I'm afraid that the more we tempt fate talking about this wonderful, impossible thing… that we'll wake up and it'll all be nothing but grief and loss..." She started to wipe her eyes then, and his arm came around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. "And then _everyone_ will know, and they'll be sorry, and I can't abide being pitied…"

The hand splayed across her midsection came up, and gently, so gently, he urged her chin up. His lips found hers and the kiss was light, and comforting.

"I should not have told Anora without asking you first. I apologize." He enfolded her in his arms, laying his cheek against the top of her head.

* * *

Later that evening, a messenger came to the Warden-Commander's office and left an envelope on the desk, which was fastened with a thick red wax seal.


	79. Girl Talk

Risa bit her lip, holding little Duncan as she sat with Anora. 

The baby was adorable, and she could see Alistair written all over his little face.  Risa smiled at Anora, nodding at the cowlick that made the baby’s hair stand up from his forehead.

“He definitely has his father’s hair,” she said, very carefully handing the little boy off to the nurse.  “A beautiful baby.  You have my sincere congratulations, Your Majesty.”

“And you have mine as well.”  Anora waited until the nurse had withdrawn, and shook her head.  “I… My father told me of some news that my husband did not mention to me.”

Risa blushed.  “No, Your Majesty.  I… did not tell him.”

“Please,” she said, “in private we need not be so formal.”  Anora grasped Risa’s hand briefly.  “I… you must understand.   Men do not think as we do – they don’t always consider the consequences of their speech.  I would assume that you would prefer to delay this news?”

Risa nodded with some relief.  “Yes, Y—Anora.”

Anora nodded briskly.  “I think that would be best, myself.”  She took a sip from her teacup.  “Zevran informed me that you had indeed been in Denerim the day of Duncan’s affirmation.” 

Risa looked away, wishing there were some way to escape this conversation.  If she weren’t sure the windows here were a fatal plunge to the ground, she might well have gone out one by now.  “Y-yes.  I was.”

“The gifts you sent were… very thoughtful.  Certainly fit for a prince.”

Risa nodded.  “Yes.  Your thank you note said as much.”  She wondered if this conversation would ever become less awkward.

Anora took another sip of her tea, and passed a plate full of pastries to Risa.  “I can’t tell you how honored we were by the gifts, and Duncan loves his nug.   Honestly, the two are inseparable.  However… I do not mean to make you think us ungrateful, but by the time my little brother or sister should be making their debut, Duncan would probably be losing interest in rattles.”  It was not the truth – Risa knew that – but it was a convenient deception.  “I know that you did not hope for this blessed event… I was wondering if you would allow us to… to…”  Anora set down her teacup.  She looked a little exasperated.

“Risa, I know that rattle was a family heirloom that you never thought you would be able to pass on.  Alistair and I were honored that, that you thought enough of us to send it, and if you did not get the wrong impression – that we were not appreciative – I, I would like to give you the chance to give it to your own child.”

Risa felt her cheeks turn pink.  “That… that is very generous, Majesty.  But if Duncan truly enjoys it I, I would not ask it of him.”

Anora nodded seriously.  “Well, think about it, please.  It just seems as if it would be fitting to be in the hands of your child.”

Risa nibbled her pastry.

“Are you happy?  With my father, I mean.”

Risa looked up, surprised.  “Ancestors, yes.  I would not have… I would not have accepted his suit otherwise, Anora.”  Risa smiled.  “To tell the truth I am surprised he wants anything to do with me.”

Anora laughed.  “Father said much the same thing of you when I was at Vigil’s Keep.”

Risa blushed to the roots of her hair.  That had been _well_ before they had come together as more than Commander and Warden-Lieutenant.  He had not embroidered the truth, then.  He had had feelings for her, for a long time.

“As to the upcoming nuptials, I should think it best done soonest.  Perhaps at the end of the celebrations of the Archdemon’s end – it would be fitting, given you and my father ended it…”

“Anora.”

“…and everyone will be in town anyway….”

“ _Anora_.”

Anora was looking at her critically.  “That height difference is going to be difficult to work with.  Perhaps in the royal gardens, near the lake.  I’m certain we can use the landscaping to best advantage there…”

Risa looked pained.

“And of course there will have to be a dress – I’ll have my dressmaker measure you today…”

“ANORA”.  Risa looked quite exasperated.  “Do you intend to let me get a word in edgewise?”

Anora shook her head, grinning wickedly.  “No, not really.  _Ma’am_.” 

“Oh I see… this is revenge for my being rude back at the keep….”

Anora went on serenely.  “…and really, it WILL be best – the whole city is decorated already and you don’t want too much more time to pass before you make it official, or everyone WILL be talking about your child’s date of conception.”

Risa sighed.  “I hear that stretching on the rack is very painful, Anora, but it would have to be over with sooner than this….”

 

 


	80. Excuse You?  *Who's* In Charge?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Risa knows what she wants, and knows how to get it.

Nathaniel Howe was sitting in the Great Hall listening to the cases brought before him for judgment.  He remembered all too clearly that unless it somehow involved his father directly, it was Varel who often had decided what happened in the arling; and that when it _did_ involve his father’s interests, the ruling _always_ benefited his father.

He also remembered the precedent Risa had set; she listened and judged fairly – even when it did not benefit her personally.  That had caused some consternation among his fathers’ confederates and had led to the plot against Risa, which she had neatly bypassed by claiming all the conspirators’ children as her pages and messengers, to live in the castle until further notice.

He preferred Risa’s even-handed judgment over his father’s self-interest, and he kept that in mind as he listened to the cases before him.

Alaina ran into the Great Hall and, seeing the gathered nobility and commoners, slowed to a more sedate pace.  She walked calmly to the dais and waited to the left side of it quietly in her uniform, standing stock still in a way that would have brought a wink of praise from Risa.  Nathaniel caught her eye and gave her an unsmiling slight nod, and Alaina returned it gravely, though her eyes danced.

* * *

 

After the audience was over, Alaina fell into step beside Nathaniel as he left the dais.  “Message for you, sir.”

She handed Nathaniel a small metal capsule that he recognized as being one of the ones attached to the legs to the carrier hawks.  They’d tried pigeons and had them killed by raptors – they learned to use raptors, which tended to make their way home.

_Nathaniel – your presence, as well as the presence of Anders and Sigrun, is requested at the Wardens’ compound in Denerim at your earliest convenience.  Be sure to bring Grey Warden dress uniforms – ours as well. – Risa._

* * *

 

_Three days later…_

“Blue,” Risa said in a tightly constrained voice that was only this side of polite, “and silver.”

“But yellow is trad…” the dressmaker tried to insist.

“BLUE,” Risa said more loudly, her face set into a scowl, “and SILVER.”

“But…”

Risa walked over, kicked the footstool so that it slid to right in front of the dressmaker, and stood on it, at eye level.  “Who is the _bride_?”

“Um, well….”

“Who is the _Hero of Ferelden_?”

“Uh, that would be….”

“WHO is the _Arlessa of Amaranthine_?”

“My lady, I…”

“And WHO is the _Commander of the Grey_?!”

“Um that’s…..”

“Let me make it very simple,” Risa snapped, completely out of patience.  “The answer to all of those questions is ME.  BLUE and SILVER are the colors of the dress.  Not Theirin Red.  Not Gwaren Yellow.  Not Amaranthine White and Yellow.  GREY WARDEN BLUE AND SILVER, or so help me Ancestors, you can _get_ _stuffed_ _and watch me walk down the aisle in my armor_!”

The dressmaker looked at Anora in mute appeal.

“My Lady,” Anora said soothingly, coming to Risa’s side.  “Don’t you think…”

“Blue.”  Risa said quietly.  “And silver.  Think how it will bring out your father’s eyes.”

Anora nodded, and pulled out the fabric swatches.  “This one?”

Risa looked, shook her head, and flipped to a deeper shade.  “This.”

Anora handed it to the dressmaker.  “Blue.  And silver trim.”

              

* * *

“ _That_ tombstone?”  Anders shook his head.  “Somehow I don’t think you’re going to get him to party, and _especially_ not to excess.”

“Look, there’s not a lot of people who will celebrate with him,” Sigrun said, “and we know he’s a stand-up guy.  We gotta do something to acknowledge his matrimonial state.”

The summons to Denerim had brought Nathaniel, Sigrun and Anders swiftly to the capital.   Risa herself had conducted their debriefing – and truthfully, that was what it had seemed.

_“Nathaniel will be promoted to Warden-Lieutenant effective immediately,” Risa had said without preamble, “and Loghain will be acting strictly in a support and advisory capacity for him while I attend to some personal matters.  You will be expected to be seen during the Anniversary celebrations in your Grey Warden uniforms, and to mingle with the crowds, answer any questions they may have that aren’t Warden secrets – let them know we take only the best and brightest.  I hope you will always act as examples of proper behavior when you’re in public as the eyes of Ferelden are on us… and at the end of the week, you are invited to be honor guards at our wedding.”_

The rest of it was so completely typical of her briefings that it had taken nearly a minute for the last sentence to make a conscious impact.  When it did, Anders, Sigrun and Nathaniel looked shocked to varying degrees, and Oghren was as dark and stormy as a thundercloud.

 

 


	81. Well-Groomed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loghain has a drink.

Loghain Mac Tir sat in the Gnawed Noble tavern at one of the back tables, nursing a mug of ale and thanking the Maker that none of the citizenry had the inclination – or the courage  -- to come over to  engage him in conversation.

Ever since they’d been in Denerim, he’d been performing a very skillful dance – staying out of the sight of his son-in-law, Maric’s bastard, while also trying to stay close enough to be within reach for Risa.  He’d also been woefully deprived of her presence, and her gentle teasing and thorough understanding of him were very much missed.  He’d heard from the servants (who were always inclined to gossip) that his partner was _very much_ causing a stir by insisting on having _her_ way instead of meekly accepting what was _à la mode_.

 _Good for her_ , he thought, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.  She wouldn’t be Risa Aeducan without that fierce determination to have things done her way.

Of course, should she and Anora join forces, the results would be _truly_ terrifying.

A shadow fell over his table, and he glanced up to see Anders, of all people, standing there with his trademark smirk.  “Warden,” he said quietly.

Loghain looked up, and realized every eye in the place was on them.  Odd, given that Anders was, as Risa had ordained, in Grey Warden Mage armor.  Then Loghain realized that people had been eyeing him quietly for a while.  “Warden, “ he replied in acknowledgement.

“We’ve got a table in the back room, sir.  Away from curious eyes.”  Anders winked.  “Join us?”

Loghain looked around the tavern and how quiet it had gotten while people pretended as hard as they could that they weren’t listening and watching.  In answer, he rose, taking his mug with him and gesturing to the waitress that he’d like a refill as he followed Anders to the back.

When he passed through the door, Anders shut it, and there were Nathaniel, Oghren and Sigrun in the otherwise empty room.  Loghain raised an eyebrow and looked at the four other Wardens.

Sigrun  grinned and raised her mug.  “To the man of the hour!”

Loghain snorted.  “Hardly.”

Anders picked up his own mug and took a deep sip.  “Well, seems like the Commander’s having all the fun what with the pampering and dressmaking and all – we wanted to spend some time celebrating with you!”

Loghain snorted.  “How many nuptials have you experienced, Anders?”

“Myself?  None.  Ah, well… in the Circle, observing others?…. Exactly… none.”

Loghain nodded.  He looked around the table.  “The groom has the peculiar – and blessed – role of simply showing up for the ceremony sober, well groomed, and neatly dressed in these things.  I’ve managed that for fifty years thus far, and believe I can be trusted to manage it on the day of my nuptials without much trouble.”

“Groom’s not always sober, either,” Oghren snorted into his beer.

“I would hardly qualify what my intended is doing as fun – especially since my daughter is involved,”  Loghain continued as he took a drink.  “It will be ruthlessly efficient, and each moment of the day will be planned for in the minutest detail.  She will be perfectly coiffed, dressed, made up, and manicured until she is hardly recognizable to _herself_ , let alone those who know her best.  No, it’s _Risa_ who deserves to be admired and petted and congratulated and made much of – not me.”

“You got _that_ right,” Oghren muttered.  He still didn’t think much of the arrangement.  A Paragon, and marrying to some _surfacer_ ….

Anders interrupted smoothly before Oghren could get any more belligerent.  “I’m very happy for you both, but I have to admit... I hadn’t any _inkling_ that the two of you were involved.  I don’t think _any_ of us did.”

“That’s because _some_ of us practice some discretion.” Nathaniel said quietly. 

“Discretion?  I think you mean _repression_ ,” Anders grinned.

“Contrary to what you may believe, it’s not necessary to make sure that half of Thedas knows when you have achieved… satiation.”  Nathaniel grated.

“Jealous?”  Anders grinned cheekily.

“Before you two whip ‘em out and measure, (not that I’d mind checking out that result), we’re here to _celebrate_ , not fight like old married couples,” Sigrun laughed, interposing herself between the dour archer and the flamboyant mage.

Nathaniel subsided into his normal stoicism, and said gruffly, “My congratulations, Loghain.”

Loghain nodded.  “Thank you, Howe.”

“So… what magic did you work on the Commander?”  Sigrun asked cheekily.  “Did you woo her with poetry?”

“Poetry?”  Anders nearly snorted his beer.  “I can’t imagine that… Loghain Mac Tir reciting love poems?”

Loghain raised an eyebrow.  How very surprised they might have been to realize that he did, in fact, recite poetry to Risa – and that it had immediately preceded their first act of intimacy. 

“ _Ancestors’ ass,_ ” Sigrun said softly.  “Ser Stone _can_ smile.”


	82. Family Matters

Risa Aeducan sat quietly on the edge of her bed in the Warden-Commander’s quarters, her head in her hands.  The day had been exhausting and stressful so far – dress fitting and all.  Were she not an Aeuducan and a Paragon, Warden-Commander and Hero of Ferelden, she would have indulged in stormy tears.

There was a quiet knock at the door, and Risa got up to answer it.

If there were a list of the ten people she would not have expected to see on the other side of that door, it would have gone, from ten to one:  Morrigan, Shale, Sten, her mother, her father, Trian, Bhelen, Jowan, the Archdemon itself, and….

“ _Alistair_?”

She stepped back in surprise to see the King and two bodyguards standing at her door.

“May I come in?” he asked, looking down into her surprised eyes.

“Yes… yes of course…. Your Majesty.”  She blushed and stepped to the side, expecting the two guards to enter as well.  They simply took up stations at either side of the door and shut it behind him.

She sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at him, wondering what on Thedas this could possibly be about.

“Are you well?” he asked, and she saw some concern there in his eyes.  “It struck me that you’ve been looking a bit… strained, I suppose, since you returned to Denerim.”

She nodded.  “Nothing I can’t handle,” she said as lightly as she could.  “We’re none of us getting younger, you know.”

“No…”  He paced a bit.  “No, you’re right about that.”  He walked to the window, looked out, and rubbed the back of his neck – one of the tics Risa had learned long ago meant that he was nervous or embarrassed about something.  She dreaded what that might presage.

“All right.  I mightn’t be the cleverest man there is, but I don’t think I’m a fool, either.”  He turned, his hazel eyes locking with her obsidian ones.  “You’re tired, you’re pale… and I haven’t seen you for a while, so the, the fullness of your… assets… is a bit more noticeable to me than perhaps to people who see you daily.”  He stepped closer, then sat beside her on the bed, so he could look at her on a more equal level.

“Anora was much the same when she was expecting Duncan,” he said quietly.  “For a while – weeks before she revealed it to me, even.  Am I correct?  Are you expecting?”

Risa took a deep breath before answering.  She shut her eyes and sighed.  “Yes.”

She felt a hand gently cup her cheek, and opened her eyes to see him looking at her intently.  There was some pain in his gaze, yes – but also concern.  “And this… it’s what you want?”

She nodded.  “Yes.” She reached over, squeezed his hand.  “I didn’t say because I didn’t want to… to hurt you.  Any more than you have been hurt already.”

He smiled a little sadly.  “We do manage to do that to each other, don’t we.”

She looked away.  “For what it’s worth,” she said, “when I spared Loghain, I never dreamed there would ever be anything between us.”

Alistair rubbed his neck.  “For what it’s worth – when you made me king and I married Anora, I never dreamed there would be anything between _us_ either.”

Risa looked at him.  “Are you… happy?”

He nodded.  “You?”

She nodded.  “Yes.  Surprisingly so.” 

“Good.”  He dropped his hand from her cheek.  “You… you _do_ care for him.  It’s not a misplaced sense of obligation because…”

“No.”  She smiled.  “No, it’s not.”

“Ah.  Well.  _That’s_ a relief.”  He got up and started to pace nervously.  “I suppose that will make you my mother-in-law, won’t it?”

Risa groaned.  “Don’t remind me.”

He grinned.  “Mom.”

Risa mock scowled.  “You know, it mightn’t be the best idea to annoy your Archdemon-slaying mother-in-law.” 

“I know that my very capable wife has probably got every detail of your wedding planned for every second of the day…”

Risa closed her eyes and heaved a long-suffering sigh.

“…but… have you any idea who you’ll ask to escort you down the aisle?”

Risa looked at Alistair blankly.  “Sorry?”

He saw her confusion.  “To escort… generally, in an Andrastean ceremony, a close male family member escorts the bride to her husband.”

Risa nodded, her face becoming closed off – her Stone face, Alistair had called it.  “It’s not much different in Orzammar.  The father, uncle, or brother gives the bride into the husband’s control.”  She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I suppose as Commander of the Grey I might be trusted as competent enough to do it on my own.”

“Ah.”  Alistair nodded quickly – too quickly – and started to head for the door.  “Well, I…”

Risa stood and caught his hand, and he turned, meeting her eyes.

“Alistair…”  She looked at him with an uncertain smile.  “As odd as it might sound… I wonder if you’d do me the honor.”  She saw his face begin to change, and she said quickly, “I know… I know you hate him, but…”

“I’d be honored.”  He squeezed her hand, then took a deep breath and sighed.  “I guess I’d better make my peace with the old man – I don’t suppose I can keep him away from Duncan forever.”

Risa smiled.  “I think that’d be for the best.”

“I understand you’ve already seen your grandson?”  He grinned wickedly.

“Ouch, you’re just not very nice, are you?”  she laughed.  “Yes, I’ve seen the boy.”  She gave him a wry half-grin.  “He’s very handsome – got your hair, certainly.  And the grip on him – I know Anora has aspirations for him to be a politician but….”

“….warrior, like his father, yes, I know.”

“And his grandfather.”  Risa saw his smile falter, and asked quietly, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“You braved the Archdemon without me,” he said with real regret.  “ _Surely_ I can manage to face my father-in-law.”

 


	83. Post-Bachelor Party Shenanigans

Risa had gone to bed, exhausted, and glad to have a moment to sleep.  It was very late at night that the other Grey Wardens returned to the compound, and Risa slipped out of her bed, tying her robe on, to meet them.  The drunken singing had probably alerted everyone in the neighborhood.

She stepped out of the Warden-Commander’s quarters to see them staggering in in two groups.  Sigrun had one of Oghren’s arms across her shoulder, and was guiding him  down the hall as he sung an old dwarven song about becoming the Paragon of drunks.  A particularly bad stagger nearly upset both dwarves, even as Sigrun pushed in the other direction saying, “Whoa, there, big guy… other way.”

“GREAT BOOZE-UP, BOSS!”  Oghren shouted, very nearly bringing Sigrun down with him.  “You shoulda been there with – it was FUN!”

“Yes, I see it must have been.”  She crossed her arms and nodded across the hall to Sigrun.  “Pour him into bed there.  We’ll have to see about Anders brewing a hangover remedy in the morning.”

“Oh, I think you’re going to have to get your remedies elsewhere, Commander,” Sigrun said, looking over her shoulder.

Anders was staggering between the steady and stoic forms of Loghain Mac Tir and Nathaniel Howe, singing a rude song about genlocks and the amazing and ridiculous things, both in number and type, which they carried in their bungholes.  Nathaniel was smiling a bit – obviously feeling good, but definitely not drunken, and her husband-to-be seemed as rock-steady as ever.

“Well, I see the ale fairy has bitten some of us harder than others,” she murmured.

Oghren staggered over and gave Risa a huge hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek.  “Yer cloudhead’s all right…” he bawled like a calf looking for its mother.  “Fer a HUMAN and all!”

“So glad to have your approval,” Loghain said, giving Risa an exasperated look.

“Oghren, go sleep it off, there’s a good fellow,”  Risa said, shoving him gently towards his room.

“Yer awright too.”  He went with Sigrun, a complicated dance that only just kept him on his feet.

Nathaniel took Anders into the next room and dumped the mage into bed, then went down the hall toward his own bed.

“And what of me, my own?”  Loghain stood before her, his hands clasped behind his back.  “Shall I pour myself into a bed down the hall?”

She looked up at him searchingly, then took his elbow.  “You’ve never struck me as a fool.”

“A fool?”  He let her pull him inside.  “A fool would presume that he were welcome, whatever the circumstances.”

She shut the door behind him, and drew him toward the bed, shedding her robe and slipping between the sheets.  She looked sleepily over her shoulder at him, standing at the edge of the bed.

“Join me,” she murmured, and he slipped in behind her, curling protectively around her back, spooning with her.  He nuzzled his cheek into her shoulder and threw his arm around her, holding her close, his left arm crossing her hip and his hand splayed across her belly.

They drifted off to sleep together.

* * *

 

 

“I think Ser Cauthrien would be an _excellent_ choice to stand for you,” Risa said as she and Loghain demolished breakfast.

“Traditionally, the groom selects a male important to him to stand up for him.  I can only imagine what my daughter and the Chantry shall say.”

Risa grinned wolfishly.  “We can always tell them all to stuff it and live in sin.”

Loghain nodded, pretending to consider this.  “Have you met my daughter?  Name’s Anora, very good at getting her way… oh that’s right… she’s the Queen.”

“And you’re her dad, and it will please you to select Ser Cauthrien.  It will please me as well – she’s an honorable sort.”  Risa smiled gently at him.  “Even as she stood aside to let me stop you, she asked me to be merciful… I owe her quite a lot.”

He grunted and nodded.  “Have you heard this silly nonsense about the gardens?  Seems you’re to walk at my side on some embankment so we appear closer in height.”

Risa nodded.  “I believe the appropriate answer to your daughter about that is ‘Yes, dear.’   I’d rather you fight her about Cauthrien.”

Loghain set down his toast.  “And what’s this I hear about M—“

“Alistair,” Risa interrupted.

“—about _Alistair_ escorting you?”

Risa’s jaw squared.  “He was very dear to me, and we’re going to need to learn to live with him in the first place.  In the second, him giving me away might silence the last of the gossips harassing Anora… if not I can always gut them myself.”

“You couldn’t choose Oghren?”

Risa sighed.  “He’s already appointed himself my surrogate relative; I love him like a brother but I don’t want to reinforce the idea he’s to protect me from you.”

Loghain shook his head.  “He had better behave himself.”

“As must _you_ ,” she said pointedly.  She dabbed her mouth.  “As a matter of fact…”

Loghain groaned.  “When my daughter uses that phrase, I am soon to experience something rather unpleasant.”

Risa looked apologetic.  “Well… try your best to be restrained.  We are to make our way after breakfast to the little audience chamber.”

 

“I cannot experience too soon the delights which undoubtedly await us there.”

* * *

 

“Maker’s ass, he’s all Maric,” Loghain murmured, his grandson tucked easily within his arms.

Risa glanced up from where Loghain sat with Duncan on a low, padded bench and she looked toward Alistair and Anora.  She noted that Alistair’s expression was grim, but that it lightened when Anora placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Is he still glowering at me?”

“Are _you_ at _him_?”  Risa murmured back.

“Dear one, when am I NOT glowering?” Loghain grunted.

Risa grinned wickedly.  “Would you like the entire list, or just the highlights?”

Loghain glanced at her.  “You wouldn’t…”

“Is that a dare, Longshanks?”  Her obsidian eyes sparkled with mischief.  “Well, there was the time I had you flat on your back and I sl….”

“Risa!   In front of an impressionable youngster?” he chided.

“Maybe Alistair could use some tips,” she whispered with a laugh.

Loghain glanced at the King and Queen.  “Well he must know SOMETHING… he managed to father a child with her….”  He tickled Duncan under the chin, and the boy laughed.  “…clearly, they’ve done something right with him, though I could have wished they didn’t name him _Duncan_.”

“Not so loudly, love – for better or worse, he was sort of foster father to the King.”

 "I could kill Maric for that, too..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Anders sings can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/729085/chapters/1503630


	84. Choose Your Battles

Risa and Loghain had managed to spend the greater part of the morning with Alistair, Duncan and Anora in the little audience chamber without any serious altercations. Loghain, as suggested, had accepted that Risa would be standing on an embankment near the pond so as to appear more of a height with him; and Risa had used every rhetorical trick and downright emotional blackmail to secure Ser Cauthrien as Loghain's representative.

"Aside from the two of us, Your Majesty," Risa had finished with a smile, "there is no one left on Thedas who respects and admires your father as much as Ser Cauthrien… and in the unlikely event that I require someone to take up their traditional duty of defending me if for some reason my husband is unable, I can think of no worthier person."

"Warden Commander…."

"Ah-ah-ahhhh," Risa said, wagging a finger, "If you think to _command_ me, Your Majesty, that is not the way… the crown has no authority over the Wardens." She smiled sweetly.

Anora frowned. "Risa, the Chantry…."

"Why, I'm surprised they wish to marry a _heathen_ like me to your father in the first place," Risa purred. "Surely they can bend a _little_ farther to include another good Andrastean to keep me on the straight and narrow – or we can simply run off and live in sin. That _would_ be easier, would it not?"

Alistair had been watching Risa – and as playful as she seemed, he leaned forward to speak to Anora. "She's serious, Anora."

 _"As am I."_ Anora said frostily.

Risa leaned back. "I have bent on _many_ aspects, Anora. I am wearing that ridiculous confection you topsiders call a dress. I am walking on a ramp to make a more pleasing picture for the citizenry. I am submitting to an Andrastean ceremony when you know well I worship my Ancestors and the Stone and your father is no great fan of the Chantry. I have allowed you to arrange a far larger and more sumptuous wedding than I ever wished – and _all_ I am asking is that your father be allowed to have his most trusted lieutenant at his side to see him into married life."

"Do be reasonable, Anora," Loghain said quietly.

Anora sighed. "Oh, very well. But let us not have any more deviations from the norm – no Mabari ring bearers or Qunari streweing flowers…."

"Nothing more, Your Majesty." Risa winked at Alistair.

* * *

"Well, _that_ was bracing." Loghain said as they stepped outside of the palace gates.

"Your daughter is lovely, but she cannot be allowed to always have her way," Risa grinned.

"You said something of the kind to me once regarding Alistair, and I said we would have to agree to disagree – however, I find that when _I_ am on the receiving end I am _far_ more in the agreement with you."

They had not gone more than twenty paces from the little audience chamber when suddenly, Risa felt a peck on her cheek and whirled to find the Antivan assassin, Zevran Arainai, standing beside her.

"My deadly sex goddess," he purred, stepping back with hands open wide to show he had no weapons, "you are looking more beautiful every day!"

"Zev." Risa said, "Come give us a proper greeting."

He glanced between her and Loghain, and sketched a deep bow. "I am sure that what I consider a proper greeting and what your intended considers a proper greeting are worlds apart."

"Correct." Loghain said, crossing his arms and watching the assassin sharply.

Zevran took her hand and kissed it, then let her go, taking a step back, his eyes narrowed. He then glanced at Loghain. "Congratulations," he said. "I am told that some more of our old friends – Wynne of the magical bosom and our sweet nightingale, Leliana, will be arriving shortly."

"Marvelous." Loghain commented dryly.

"I see our former Teyrn is just as communicative and cheerful as ever," Zevran said slyly.

Risa smiled. "I find him pleasant enough company," she said, taking Loghain's hand as she headed for the Warden compound.

"You always did see the best in all of us," Zevran admitted, falling into step beside her. "It was one of your more endearing qualities. Well, naturally none of us wished to disappoint you, my dear Grey Warden, and so we lived up to your expectations rather than dash your hopes."

She chuckled humorlessly. "I had no hopes," she admitted.

Zevran stopped and turned to face the both of them, his hand gently taking her elbow and tugging her to a stop. "You and I, we looked into each others' eyes when first we met. And we saw the same thing, I wager."

Risa looked soberly at Zevran, and nodded. "Yes."

Zevran glanced at Loghain and let Risa's elbow go, sketching a bow. "Ah, but I do not see that in you now. And you gave me purpose as well as absolution."

Loghain snorted.

"Scoff if you will, but your lady gave me something to live for."

Loghain glanced at Risa himself. "Yes," he said slowly. "Yes. She's rather good at finding purposes for people."

"Speaking of purposes," Risa interrupted, embarrassed by where she saw this going, "What are the security arrangements for the celebrations?"

"The usual. I confess, having Ser Cauthrien with you two and our dear Alistair and Anora suits me very well. Maric's Shield will be quite the protection – and honor guard – for you all…"


	85. Point... Taken.

“Nervous?”  Alistair murmured quietly into Risa’s ear.

“Nervous?  No.”  She took a firmer grip on his armored elbow.   Her head came up to his shoulder now… a slight embankment had been made, so that she now stood approximately as tall as the average human woman would.

“No?”

“No.”  She shifted her grip again as the music began and Leliana’s hauntingly beautiful voice rang out over the gardens. At Alistairs nod, they began to walk, side by side, very sedately past the group of well-wishers lining the path.

He patted her hand with his free one, and just barely heard her breathe under her breath, “ _Terrified_.”

He glanced at her, and realized she was not joking.  Although there was a smile on her face, he could tell by her eyes how nervous she actually was.

Maker’s breath.  Risa Aeducan, actually frightened.  He’d never seen it before.

He had been temporarily rendered speechless when he’d seen her take her place beside him – Anora’s dressmaker had turned the Warden colors into an amazing gown, striped blue and silver, that would leave no question of her affiliation with the Wardens and which made her appear beautiful and more feminine than he had ever seen her.  The gown bared her shoulders, set off her bosom so that Zevran would surely leer or faint, and the waist seemed to nip in tight.  The skirt belled out beneath her hips, seeming to give her an hourglass figure Alistair knew did not exist under all the frippery – but she looked amazing.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Loghain would think, seeing her thus, with her hair curled and piled atop her head.

“You know,” he said softly, “there’s a path crosses this one just a bit ahead.  You give me the word, my lady, and we’ll turn left and be lost among the trees before anyone knows what happened.”

Risa broke into a surprised laugh.  “Anora would kill us both.”

He glanced down at her on his left.  “I’ll brave my lady wife for you, Risa.”  He smiled, but she knew the words he said were serious.  “You don’t have to do this – you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

The look she gave him was wistful, but cleared immediately.  “No, there’s nothing that I _have_ to do… today.”

His fingers tightened around hers a moment, and he pointed his chin.  “Escape route, last chance without me having to draw my sword and fight through waves and waves of swans….”

“Swans?”

“They’re very pretty, but downright vicious!” he said, making her laugh again, and then he said, more quietly but with gentle grin, “Not unlike the amazing women whom I have been fortunate enough to have in my life.”

He paused at the crosspath.  “Last chance, my lady.”

She stood on tiptoe, and kissed his cheek so chastely that no one would be able to create a rumor from it.  “Lead on,” she said, smiling sedately.  “My lord awaits me.”

And so he did.

Loghain stood beside the lakedressed entirely in black velvet with blue and silver piping, with Ser Cauthrien at his elbow.  The outfit suited him – the black of course setting off his strong features, and the touch of blue making his eyes stand out that much more.

When he caught sight of her, Risa saw that grim look he always wore falter… and then she saw the crow’s feet at his eyes deepen and an honest to goodness smile.  Maker, he was handsome, she didn’t care what anyone else thought.  Stone hewn, that one.

Alistair turned, and placed Risa’s hand into Loghain’s, then stepped gracefully back and to the side to fetch up beside Anora.  The four Wardens stood in a line beside him, and the grand cleric raised her hand over Risa and Loghain and began to speak.

As Risa glanced up at Loghain, she saw the look in his eyes and relaxed, her own smile widening, and her small, calloused hand squeezed his large, calloused hand as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

* * *

 

“We’ll look ridiculous,” Risa said quietly as the band started to play and everyone looked rather significantly at the dance floor.

“Probably,” Loghain agreed.  He took her hand.  “However, it’s traditional and I am sure that Anora would be displeased if we did not.”

Risa stooped, tossing the train of her dress over her left arm, and felt Loghain slide one hand to her waist and take her right hand with the other.

He was quite a good dancer – surprisingly so.  Risa had of course been taught since she was a child – a princess or queen might be called upon to take a turn around the dance floor.  She tried not to hear some of the nobles commenting how she looked like his daughter rather than his wife.  She had both height and youth working against her.

“Ancestors, love, I wish I were wearing my ar—“

Risa never finished the sentence.  She staggered forward, and there were screams as she looked up into Loghain’s eyes, surprised. She tried to draw a breath, but everything hurt, and a fine mist of red sprayed from her lips as she coughed.

“Down!”  She heard a clang, and saw that Alistair had pushed Anora behind himself, and had deflected an arrow with his father’s shield.  Zevran was running , as was Nathaniel, for the woods nearby.

Loghain had caught her, and went to one knee, lowering her gently.  “ANDERS!”

Risa looked up at Loghain, wild-eyed.  “Shoulda… worn… armor…”


	86. Old Friends...

Cauthrien turned, barking at her lieutenant, Malvorne, “The queen!  Protect the queen!”

She turned back, pointing at her sergeant, Roustan.  “Take six men.  Follow Arainai and Howe – help them locate the archer!”

Alistair was still crouched over Anora, holding his shield behind her back and placing his body between her and where the first arrows had come from.  When Malvorne and his men surrounded them both, he helped her up, then spoke to Malvorne.  “Get her into the palace, now.  Hurry.”

“Alistair…” Anora started.

“Please.  Don’t argue.  I need to know you’re safe.”  He grasped her hand in his gauntlet a moment.  “Duncan needs _you_ – he won’t have _me_ forever.”

Anora frowned, then nodded.  “Escort me, if you please,” she said to Malvorne.

 

* * *

 

Risa lay trembling but trying to stay very still, looking up at Loghain.  “Hurts,” she said softly, in a tone that frightened him perhaps worse than if she were screaming in pain.  “Ancestors…”

Anders was there, crouched beside her.  “Andraste’s flaming arse,” he said quietly.  The arrow had passed through her back, and the gory head was just barely coming through her chest.  There was bright red blood welling up there – and bright red blood in her mouth.  Bright red blood meant it had pierced her lung, and she was likely drowning in her own blood.

He looked at Loghain.  “That will do more damage if you pull it out the way it went in.”

Loghain nodded, his face impassive and distant.  “Cauthrien, if you please.”

The commander of Maric’s Shield knelt beside Loghain and Anders, and nodded.  They’d done this before.  She helped roll Risa to her side, and knelt, one knee on either side of the dwarf’s legs, her hands holding Risa’s upper torso steady.

Alistair came over, and his face turned grim as Loghain reached down and snapped the fletching off the arrow, handing it to Alistair.

Crow fletching.  So, an official attempt at assassination.  But for whom?  Risa?  Loghain?  Himself?  The queen?  All four?

Loghain leaned over.  “You need to stay still,” he snapped in a voice that would brook no argument.

Risa nodded.  “Some wedding,” she said breathlessly, trying to smile with bravado.

Loghain grasped the shaft of the arrow and with one smooth push, forced the entire arrowhead out of Risa’s chest.  She sobbed with pain as he grasped the arrow and yanked it free, even as Anders’ healing blue magic flowed over and into her.

“All right, let’s get her inside,” Alistair said quietly.

Loghain nodded, and swept Risa into his arms.  “Watch my back,” he said, glancing at Alistair.

Alistair nodded grimly, and he and a small detachment of guards accompanied Loghain back to the palace.

 

* * *

 

“She’s very lucky,” Anders was quietly explaining to Loghain. “Just a bit further over… in the heart… I’m not sure I would have been able to do anything for her.”

“Yes, well I suppose when you put it that way, a punctured lung is nothing much,” Loghain said dryly.  He was seated beside Risa and holding her hand as she lay asleep.  The healing had been difficult and took a lot out of her – along with the stress of the day, she had simply drifted off and no one seemed very inclined to disturb her.

“That’s not what I meant,” Ander sighed.

“Anders,” he said quietly, “Is she well?  Is…”

Anders nodded.  “She’s fine.  Nothing to fear.”

“No one else was harmed?”  Wynne was there as well. She had arrived from the gardens in haste and been let in; all of the Blight companions and Wardens had been without question.  She’d managed to keep her feelings about Loghain to herself out of deference to Risa until now; she addressed her question to Anders rather than to the former Teyrn. 

“Alistair deflected an arrow that may have been meant for either him or the queen.”  Loghain replied calmly.  “Or may have simply missed finishing Risa… or doing for me.”

“Yes, well, I don’t suppose there is any shortage of people who would like to see you dead,” Wynne said sharply.

“True enough.  Thank you for reminding me at my wife’s sickbed.”

Anders leaned forward with a flash of uncharacteristic anger.  “Do you _mind_?  Go outside if you two feel the need to tear each other apart.   The last thing _she_ needs to listen to is you two spitting venom at each other.”

Wynne had the grace to look embarrassed, and Loghain as if he had been struck.  “Quite,” he said quietly.

“But why would the Crows attack her?”  Alistair asked in exasperation.  “Maker knows she did enough work for them during the Blight year – I did as well, for that matter.” 

Loghain lifted an eyebrow.

Alistair crossed his arms across his chest.  “Surviving you was _quite_ expensive.”

“She was an assassin?”  Nathaniel looked shocked.

“The things you learn,” Zevran said cheekily.  Hs expression became more serious.  “I will find out what I can.  Perhaps Master Ignacio can shed some light on the subject.”  Zevran slid off the windowsill he had been sitting on.  “I doubt seriously that he would have gone back on his word to the Warden….”

 


	87. Stone Hewn

_Assassins…. Talking darkspawn…. A talking broodmother and a hurlock emissary locked in mortal combat…._

_Alistair and Loghain fighting back to back, trying to reach her… trying to reach little Duncan…_

_Risa screaming as the emissary cut into her and ripped her child from her womb… a genlock with icy blue eyes and black hair, braided at the temples.… and then genlock after genlock being birthed as she bled to death…_

Risa woke with a tearing gasp, and sat bolt upright, crying out, “ _No!_ ”

Before she’d even managed to draw another breath, comforting, firm hands had gripped her shoulders and were guiding her back down. 

“Shhhh, it’s all right… you’re going to be fine, Risa.”  Wynne eased Risa back down onto some pillows.  Gentle hands wrung out a cool cloth and bathed Risa’s sweaty face.

Risa shook her head, pushing herself upright again.  “The queen… she’s unhurt?”

“She’s fine, Risa.  Everyone is fine.  You were the only person injured.”

Risa eased back.  “My husband?”

Wynne’s eyes narrowed slightly, giving her face a slightly pinched quality.  “Waiting outside.  Anders and I wished to make sure that there were no lasting effects from your little misadventure, and your… husband is not the most patient man in Ferelden.”

Risa caught and held Wynne’s gaze.  “No, he is not,” she said.  “Neither am I the most patient woman.”

“Risa,” Wynne began, “I hope you didn’t m—“

“Wynne, if you care even a little bit about me, just listen.”  Risa looked so pale, and yet when she said this, the old strength seemed to flood into her.

Wynne seemed taken aback.  “I… you are easy to care about, Risa.  Not just a little bit, either.  I suppose that is why when you do things we… we can’t understand, it’s so… difficult.”  Wynne sat on the edge of the bed.  “But I’m listening.”

Risa nodded.  “I saw the battlefield from atop the tower of Ishall… and as furious as I was that he pulled his men away… in hindsight it was the _only_ choice.  A choice that would have him damned anyway, but might leave us with enough army to repell the Darkspawn.”

“He killed…”

“A  great many darkspawm?  No doubt.”

“…I was going to say the king.”

Risa shook her head.  “ _Darkspawn_ killed Cailan.  As did his overconfidence.  He was warned NOT to take the battlefield but would not hear of it.  And truth be told, Alistair and I _were_ late with the signal. It was like fighting our way through Kinloch Hold…”

Wynne shuddered.

“I was angry and frightened and I didn’t want to see Cailan and the others massacred – we watched Duncan go under a wave of darkspaawn, did I ever tell you?  It was very traumatic for Alistair and myself.  It wasn’t until much later that I could think about it coldly and realize that.”  Risa sat up.  “I was a commander of the dwarven army.  Alistair, as much as I loved him, was just a grunt.  Sentiment ruled his perception.  Still does.  Always will, I think.”  Risa shook her head.

“When I conscripted Loghain,” she began, and trailed off.  What good would it do to reopen those wounds?  It had been the lowest point of her life.  She had never felt so alone, so completely devoid of any worth.  And it had given her the strength to decide that she must take the last blow, must kill the archdemon and in so doing, redeem her pathetic existence. 

It hadn’t worked out that way.

Wynne shifted uncomfortably as Risa’s face became stony, impassive.  She had seen the girl like that in the dark days after Alistair left… saw the light leaching out of her eyes, saw the deep depression that had given the girl the drive to seek death – a death she had somehow cheated.  “Risa,” she said with concern, gripping her shoulder to shake the girl.

“I would have died, Wynne, to end the Archdemon’s threat,” Risa said softly.  “It was all I wanted.  Because Alistair hated me, and he had been my anchor… and when I cast about for some other means of support…”  She met Wynne’s eyes unflinchingly.

Wynne felt what the girl wasn’t saying, as hard and painful as a punch to the gut.

“I never felt so alone in my life,” she said to the elderly mage.  “Death… I saw it as a release.”

“I am so sorry, my dear,” Wynne said softly, squeezing Risa’s hand.

Risa laughed humorlessly.  “And do you know, I was so determined that Loghain should live to redeem himself, Sten and I ambushed and knocked him cold.

“Fate… and Loghain… had had other plans.  While I was plotting to save his life, he’d already assured me of mine.”

“What did he do, dear?”

“That I cannot say,” Risa said.  “But I _did_ live, and it was because he orchestrated it.”

Wynne watched Risa’s face carefully.  “So you married him out of… obligation.”

“No.”  Risa shook her head.  “Somehow we both learned to respect the other.  Affection… that came very slowly.”

“I find it hard to believe you could love him – he is a hard man.”

Risa nodded.  “Stone hewn.  But you surfacers don’t understand.  I am a hard woman.  Dwarva have to be.  With low fertility rates you do whatever you need to to advance your family.  And I’m also a Warden.  When the Wardens say, ‘by whatever means necessary,’ they are not kidding.”

So saying, Risa pushed the covers aside and wincing, pushed to her feet.

“Risa, what are you doing!?”

“If my husband won’t be allowed in to see _me_ —then I am going out to see _him_.”

 

 


	88. A Horse, A Horse

Risa had just reached the corridor outside her room when she heard shouting, and Loghain’s bellow cut through all the noise, rendering everyone speechless for a moment.  Risa headed for the commotion at top speed.

“Those are our pages,” Anders was protesting angrily.  “Maker’s hairy balls, let them _talk_ to us!”

“They were caught on the palace grounds unaccompanied, and they did not arrive with you,” Cauthrien was saying as reasonably as she could.

“We come straight from the compound, ser,” Alaina was saying, clinging with a death grip to Micah’s arm.  “Straight through the passage marked ‘palace’, ‘cos we was told by the servants at the compound that the Commander and the Lieutenant were here!”

“Cauthrien,” Loghain said quietly, “you have your job to do, it’s true.  Perhaps if everyone could calm down, we can get to the bottom of this quickly.”

It was just at this moment that Micah caught sight of Risa – in her bloodstained blue dress – and all the color left his face.  He looked as if he would crumple.  “Commander,” he said, sounding lost and heartsick.

“Ser Cauthrien,” Risa said with a nod.  “By your leave… perhaps if you, I, the Warden-Lieutenant and anyone else you deem appropriate sit and question these pages, we can get the answers you need.”

 

* * *

 

Micah was close to tears by the time they had all decamped to Ser Cauthrien’s offices at Fort Drakon.  “Commander, Alaina and I left Vigil’s Keep without permission, and I’m sorry for it… we tried to get here in time to warn you…”

“Warn her of what?” Cauthrien cut in.

Alaina looked to Risa with worry.  “We… borrowed a horse,” she said.  “Micah… Micah found out…”

“My father… I heard him talking, Commander,” Micah said miserably.  “Mother didn’t know….”

Loghain sat forward, and Micah shrank back into his chair.

“What is it, Micah?” Risa asked quietly.

“Bann Esmerelle – father said she’d hired some Crows.  To take care of you.”  Micah looked ill.  “They figured with you and the Wardens out of the Keep, if you were killed – that the hostages would be long home before anyone knew what had happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell Varel?” Loghain asked.

“And wait all day while he asked and asked us the story over and over?” Alaina asked, exasperated.  “He wouldn’t believe us – he never does.”

Risa had to admit that much was true.

“So we, uh, took his horse,” Alaina said, coloring and knowing that that was a major offense.  A hanging one, to be precise.

“You mean the one that he most often uses but belongs to the Wardens,” Loghain corrected quietly.

“Um, yes ser.”

“And you rode double here?”

“Commander said we were to always stick together and help each other, “Micah said quietly.

 

* * *

 

“Do you believe them?” Cauthrien asked Loghain later, alone.

“Yes.  Those two – yes.  I have no doubt they did come here to warn us – a bit too late.”  Loghain sighed.  “The bigger problem is that without proof, there’s not much to do about this Esmerelle.”

Cauthrien nodded.  “What do you intend to do?”

Loghain smiled wolfishly.  “Set a cat among the pigeons, of course.”


	89. Can't Get Rid of Me that Easily

Micah and Alaina had been quietly spirited back to Vigil’s Keep in the middle of the night, accompanied by none other than the royal spymaster, Zevran Arainai.  The two children had sat quietly before and after him on the excellent Antivan Barb Risa Aeducan had gifted to him nearly a year ago on his departure to Denerim, and had been slipped into their dorms and under the covers with none the wiser.

He’d quietly checked the keep over, including the Great Hall, and what he saw there made him smile grimly.  The keep was safe from darkspawn attack, that was true – but there were ways in and out of the Great Hall that would not attract the notice of the uninformed.

He COULD strengthen those weak points – but what point?  It would only send those with ill-will to find more difficult places to guard against.

Zevran slipped out of the Keep again, going to a safehouse he knew in Amaranthine.  Anora had given him leave to keep an eye on her father and his wife, and he was sure that King Alistair would be glad to have him out from underfoot.  As useful as he undoubtedly was, the Grey Warden King still did not bear him any love.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Risa Aeducan was walking quickly through the cloistered main area of the Warden compound past the impressive shower of the large rampant griffon fountain, Loghain at her side.  For every two to three strides she took, he took one, so she wasn’t outpacing him.

“I’ll be happier once we’re home at the Vigil.  I’m well enough to sit a horse, Loghain,” Risa grumbled as they walked towards the corridor to the palace grounds.  “I had a good teacher.”

“ _I’m_ not well enough to watch you get shot a _second_ time,” Loghain said gruffly.

Risa sighed, and hugged him hard, leaning on tiptoe and tugging his shirt.  He bent to hold her close, and she claimed his lips. 

It was the first time she had kissed him out in the open since their disastrous wedding day – and only the _second_ time she’d been affectionate with him where others could see.

“Ugh, get a room!”  Anders teased as he passed them on the way to his rooms.

“You’re just jealous,” Risa shot back, “that you can’t have any of this.”

“Any of _whom_?” Anders asked, his amber eyes laughing

“Either of us.”  Loghain turned back to Risa, his eyes solemn.  The tone was neutral; the narrowed, icy look he’d given the mage was not.  Anders got the hint and backed off, smiling wryly.

Risa shivered lightly as Logain splayed his hand protectively over her abdomen.  She’d noticed the slightest of curves this morning when she got dressed.  Clearly, he had too, and she felt the heat of his hand radiating through her linen shirt.

“I don’t want to lose either of you,” he said quietly. 

Risa shot Anders a look, and the mage ambled off.

She drew Loghain off to a bench under the sheltered corridors beside the courtyard, and sat with him.

“Talk to me,” she said quietly.  “Why do you worry so about my health?  You know I’m healthy as a bronto.”

He was a long time in answering, and when he did, he looked away. 

“I was hardly the best husband to Celia,” he said quietly.  “I fathered Anora, it’s true, and stayed in Gwaren with a few forays off after Maric until Anora was three or four.  But then Rowan – Maric’s wife – sickened, and he had Cailan and the kingdom to worry about and I… I went to do what I could to help.   I returned home rarely, but on those occasions I often left something of myself behind.  I told Celia that I needed no more heirs of her… but she was determined.  And I loved her, in my way, and could not bear to disappoint her.

“I knew she had had miscarriages… she was determined to give me a son as well.  The healer warned us such a thing was not likely – and after each miscarriage more difficult and dangerous…

“I fathered yet another child upon Celia and left her in Gwaren, alone….  This time it seemed that it might take… that she could finally present me with a second child and Anora with a little brother or sister.

“She wrote me often, and I her, and I should have read the signs in her letters.  I know she did not like to worry me, and wrote lightly about Anora… still… the signs were all there when I reread them later.

“By the time I had gotten a letter from her that actually alarmed me about her health, it was already too late.  The letter informing me of her death arrived in Denerim just as I was arriving to a house in mourning in Gwaren.  It was the son she had so desperately wanted that had killed her, a seven months child.  And he did not outlive her half a day.”

He shook his head, examining the instep of his boot.

Risa’s heart broke for him… the admission clearly hurt him as much today as the loss itself had twenty five years previously.

“I failed Celia,” he said quietly.  “I don’t plan to fail you as well.”

“I’m right here,” she said gently, “and I’ll stick to you like a burr on a saddle blanket.  You won’t get the opportunity to go away from me for long.”  She took one of his huge, scarred hands in her own.  “Loghain…. Please.  Look at me.”

Ice blue eyes met shiny black ones.

“I am healthy as a bronto, and ready to wrestle one and bite the ears off it.”  She smiled gently.  “And I’ve got Anders to take care of me – and your favorite person ever, Wynne, while I am here.”

He gave her a doubtful look.  “My dear,” he said quietly, “you’re so… petite.  And I… I am quite large, even as humans go.  I worry about you.”

“I doubt our child will be six feet tall to begin with,” she teased.

“Risa.”  He covered one of her small hands with his.

She sobered.  “Loghain.  We’ll be fine.”  She didn’t mention any of her own nervousness and worry about this pregnancy.  This was a first – probably an _only_ child.  If she could bear it to full term.  And the truth was she was worried herself – but not for her life, as he seemed to be.  She worried about the disappointment should she lose the child, for both herself and for him.  She worried, as he did, that the child would be large and hard to birth; she worried about a half-dwarven child and his place in the world.

Now was not the time to show such worries.

“You did not marry an optimist,” he said softly, “and I have rarely been disappointed in my skepticism.”

She stood and stepped between his knees, wrapping her arms around his neck.  “You didn’t marry some hothouse flower,” she retorted, and kissed him soundly.

He responded almost violently, pulling her close in his arms and kissing her hard.  When he finally broke the kiss they were both flushed and restless.

She leaned her forehead against his, her heart hammering in her chest as she shut her eyes.  Clearing her throat, she asked, “…so… would we perhaps be able to borrow a carriage?  Do you think Anora would give us the use of the one at Gwaren House?”

“I believe that could be arranged,” he said quietly, brushing the hair back from her eyes.  The gentlest of kisses brushed against her lips.  “Thank you, love.”


	90. Wedded Bliss

Risa and Loghain’s return to Vigils’ Keep in a carriage bearing the heraldry of Gwaren did not go unnoticed, and Varel himself came out to the ward to meet them.  He had given Risa his hand and helped the dwarf alight from the carriage.

“My Lady Aeducan,” he said, nodding to her politely.  She was dressed as a noble, not as the Commander of the Grey, and it had been their system that in such cases she be addressed by her noble title rather than her martial ones.  He had also previously been informed of Nathaniel’s taking over as Acting Warden-Commander while Risa attended to arling matters.

Loghain stepped down from the carriage as well, and had cleared his throat.  “Seneschal Varel, you are mistaken,” he said mildly.

Varel looked at him.  “Mistaken?  But…”

“You address the Arlessa Risa Mac Tir,”  And Loghain had bent swiftly, sweeping Risa into his arms.

“What – hey!”  She threw an arm around his neck, her hand tightening on his elbow.  “What are you…”

“Old tradition, my dear,” he said, even as she squirmed in his grip.  “It’s bad luck for a newlywed bride to stumble on her way into her home for the first time.”

She settled skeptically.  “Varel…?”

“It is, indeed, the tradition,” Varel confirmed, giving the two of them an odd look.   When they had left, he’d no idea that there was any sort of marital arrangement in the air.  “May I be the first to offer you both my congratulations?”

“Thank you, Varel,” Loghain said, carrying Risa up the steps and into the Keep.

“Don’t they make a lovely couple, Herren?”  Wade sighed, clasping his hands together.

“Absolutely charming,” Herren said, staring after the two.

Varel watched as they disappeared inside. 

“Oh, won’t Bann Esmerelle go absolutely wild when she hears that there’s an Arl of Amaranthine again!” Wade gushed.

“I’m quite certain she will be… most excited,” Varel sighed.

 

* * *

 

“I think I have a solution for you.”

Risa looked up at Nathaniel Howe as she settled uncomfortably behind her desk.  Since their return from Denerim a month previously, her back had begun to ache whenever she sat for long.  “A solution for…”

Nathaniel leaned against the wall.  “Well.  I’m assuming that at some point you will need to get back to working in the field, correct?”

Risa nodded, feeling her stomach turn over with disquiet.  Need, perhaps.  _Want_ , definitely.

“My sister, Delilah.  She’s due in the spring.  I have a proposal for you.”  He walked over to the desk, leaned over it.  “Her baby will be three months old when yours is born.  I propose that you bring Delilah and Albert to the keep – to one of the cottages inside the walls, perhaps.  When you are ready to return to work, Delilah can watch your child… be a wet nurse to him or her, if necessary.”

Risa turned thoughtful.  “She wouldn’t mind?”

“I’ve asked her.  I asked if she and Albert wanted rooms in the Keep itself – she said she didn’t want to inconvenience anyone.  But it _would_ give her the opportunity to earn some income herself while having the time to take care of her child.”  Nathaniel’s expression softened.  “And he’d live here in the ancestral home…”

Risa nodded.  “Done,” she said, shaking his hand.  “She may have her old suite of rooms back if she likes, or one of the cottages – whatever she prefers.  And thank you, Nathaniel.  It relieves a great worry for me.”

The next two months flew by.  Nathaniel had settled his sister and Albert back in her suite, and was often to be found in the company of his new nephew, also named Nathaniel. 

Although Oghren and his wife Felsi were estranged, she too came to live in one of the cottages within the walls.  His daughter , Aeda, was his pride and joy.  Risa made sure that Felsi felt welcome to come and go at the Keep and bring Aeda with her – and that Oghren had time enough to spend with his family in the cottage as well.

“We’re going to need a full on nursery if we keep this up,” Sigrun chuckled.  “Baby Wardens…”

* * *

 

 

 “Absolutely not.”

Risa took several deep breaths.  “What… did you just say?”

The Mac Tirs had continued their tradition of having dinner in Risa’s – now their – sitting room.  And so at the small table, set before the warmly inviting fire, Loghain set down his wine glass beside his dinner plate.  “Risa, this is no time for games.  You will NOT be inviting that simpering bunch of jackals here to upset you simply because there is a new one in town.”

Risa crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Loghain.  “That is _precisely_ what I intend to do, my husband,” she said sweetly, “and _precisely_ why I want to do it.  I want to get a read on this Lady Rossignol before the rest of Amaranthine has her firmly on their side.”

He shook his head, cutting into his steak with swift, economical movements of his knife.  “Risa, it’s absurd.  There is nothing to be gained by it.”  He stabbed a piece of the meat and brought it quickly into his mouth, chewing efficiently.

Risa glared at him.  “You wouldn’t be coddling me like this were I not pregnant,” she accused, sipping her small beer.

“No,” he agreed.  “I probably would not.  But you _are_ pregnant, and there is no reason for you to tire yourself out physically and emotionally with that… that vapid pack of vultures – not to mention the fact that we still _don’t_ know who made the attempt on your life.” 

“I will be safe enough in my own home!”

“You don’t know that!”  His face had become stony, and his icy blue eyes snapped with anger.

“Where better than surrounded by my guards, pages…..”

“And what _good_ did their guards, knights and pages do _the Couslands of Highever_!” Loghain roared, slamming his silverware down with a clatter.

Risa recoiled, knocking over her mug of small beer, and scrambled out of her chair before the river of liquid could reach her and stain her clothes.  At five months, she was not as nimble a rogue as she had been, and she threw her napkin onto the puddle of beer on the table, trembling.

He froze for a moment, taking her in, and his eyes softened.  “Risa...,” he said softly, reaching a hand out to her.

He had misinterpreted her mood.  It was not fear that made her shake.  The moment he moved, her brow furrowed and her eyes blazed with rage.  “How _dare_ you yell at me!” Risa snapped, “I’m no child to be scolded…”

His eyes narrowed again, cold with anger.  “Then don’t _act_ like one!”

She flinched as if struck, and she informed him coldly, “The Lady Rossignol WILL be my guest, for lunch, _tomorrow_.  If you do not choose to be civil to her, you may wish to take your noonday meal at the Crown and Lion.”  She spun on her heel and stormed out of the sitting room, her rolling gait more pronounced as she struggled with her increasing lack of balance and expanding belly.


	91. Copper for your Thoughts...

“Oh, she is absolutely _barbaric_ , my dear,” Lady Rossignol said, shaking her head as she sipped from her teacup.  She placed it delicately upon its saucer and folded her gloved hands on her lap.  The yellow silk gloves looked very well against the soft shimmer of the light blue silk dress and her exquisite matching shoes.  The shoes were high heels adorned with amber beading that seemed to glow and shimmer in the flickering light of the fireplace.

“The _idea_ … a _dwarf_ placed as an Arlessa over the HUMANS who live here,” Bann Esmerelle sneered.  “You know how they are… mannerless, violent, greedy – why she’s already raised the taxes on all of us.  To repair the _roads_ and to hire _soldiers_ to protect the _farms_ – she SAYS!  As if _those_ dirty hovels need protecting.  It’s _Amaranthine_ that’s the jewel of the north – without us, there is NOTHING.” 

“I know.”  Lady Rossignol’s azure eyes glinted out from under dark brown bangs.  “And the tea she invited me to -- ugh.  Fruit, bread and cheeses, as if I were a _peasant_ , or one of her _Wardens_.”  She put her fan down on the table with a snap.  “Really, dear, I don’t know how you _stand_ her.”

Esmerelle sat back, her small pink tongue flickering out to wet her lips, her beady eyes locked on Rossignol’s sweet face.  “She has proven… difficult… to deal with.  The smallfolk love her of course…. She places _their_ interests over the _peerage_.  Imagine!  And she was _supposed_ to be a princess where she came from?  Princess of a _dungheap_ , obviously.”

“ _Someone_ should do something about her,” Rossignol said softly.  Her eyes narrowed.  “A scandal, perhaps.”

“She seems immune – filthy dwarf.  The king made her our Arlessa.  And she’s gone off and married _Loghain Mac Tir_ – imagine that.  Ferelden’s _greatest_ hero styled as a _traitor_ , _forced_ to become a Warden and placed under her _control_ – and _then_ having to marry her.  What a step down for him – one of the two Teyrns of Ferelden!  They say she threatened to have him executed unless he agreed to wed – so she’d have SOMEONE able to run the Arling.”  She flicked an irritated look at a servant who quickly poured more tea for the two ladies, waving a wrist encased in bangles which rattled threateningly.  The servant set down the pot and moved quickly away.

“Do you _really_ think he would have agreed to that?” Rossignol shook her head doubtfully.  “He struck me as the type to have obligingly stuck his neck out for the headman rather than do something he felt was not honorable.”

“Who _knows_ what’s in that filthy brew they make them drink,” Esmerelle hissed.  “She’s got Nathaniel Howe – our former arl’s son – as one of her Wardens.  He’d have _no_ reason to be here but to slit her throat since she murdered his father… and yet he’s her acting Warden-Commander.”

“Something,” Rossignol repeated quietly, “should be done about her.”

Esmerelle uncoiled and went to the mantelpiece.  “Something _will_.”

* * *

 

“Risa?”

Sigrun eased around the door of a disused storage room, having heard some sniffling noises inside.  The arlessa had disappeared after dinner, and while no one had precisely ASKED that anyone look for her, she’d seen the look on the arl’s face as he stalked the halls.  Stone-hewn – but very worried.

She heard a gentle cough, and the sounds of some rustling, and gave the other rogue a moment or five to compose herself.  Then she came in directly, bustling with good cheer.  “There you are!  I was wondering where you’d got to.”  She peered around the dusty room, and her eyes fell on some wine glasses.  “Oooh, those are pretty…. I’ll help you polish them up – they’d be just the thing for one of your little dinner parties…”

Risa hastily wiped her eyes.  “Sigrun… I… they’re too heavy in style, I think.”  She lumbered to her feet from the hearthrug.

Sigrun pretended interest.  “You may be right.  Hey, but I’m just a duster – you’re a noble, you know all about that crap.”  She peered at Risa.  “Hey… you ok, boss?”

“Wonderful,” Risa said flatly, then burst into tears.

“Hey…. Hey!”  Sigrun stepped over, intending to pat her awkwardly on the back.  Instead, she ended up with an armful of sobbing arlessa.  “It can’t be _that_ bad, boss…”

“He _hates_ me,” Risa sobbed.

Sigrun rubbed her back.  “Hates you?  _Who_ hates you?”

“My h-husband,” Risa shuddered hard, trying to ease her crying.

Sigrun felt a protest bubbling up – the look in his eyes had certainly not been hatred.  Instead she asked, “Aw, now why would you say that?”

“He yelled at me.”  Risa raised red and watery eyes to Sigrun, sniffling miserably.

“He yelled at you… and?”

Risa looked away.  “He slammed the table.”

Well, ok, Sigrun thought.  The man WAS volatile – she’d seen him knock aside Hurlocks with his mighty war cry and a smash of his shield.   “Risa… how does that mean he hates you?”

Risa looked at her feet.  “He yelled at me… like Alistair yelled.  Like I was nothing to him.  Nobody.”

Sigrun frowned.  She’d been yelled at plenty in Dusttown….  Oh.  “You’re afraid he doesn’t love you anymore because he got angry with you?”

“We’ve _never_ yelled at each other,” Risa said softly.  “Not like that.”

Sigrun squeezed the rogue’s hand.  “Risa,” she said fondly.  “Couples yell at each other.”

Risa did not look convinced.

“They do, I swear.  It doesn’t mean he hates you.”

“ _Alistair_ did.”

“Alistair’s an _ass_ ,” Sigrun retorted.  “It just means the honeymoon’s over.”

Risa’s eyes widened.  “Alistair’s _king_!”

“So he’s a _royal_ ass.  Seriously.  Couples fight.”  Sigrun chuckled.  “My mam used to throw things at my uncle-of-the-month when she was really mad.  My sister used to scream obscenities at her husband, and _he_ used to go out and break genlock heads after.”

Risa looked doubtful.  "But...."

Sigrun sat her down.  "Have you ever disagreed?  Seriously disagreed?"

Risa shook her head slowly.  "Not since.... before the Archdemon.  Oh, there were times Loghain and I almost came to blows..."  She flushed.  "I nearly drew my daggers on him once."

"There.  And after?"

Risa sniffled, considering.  "Then I got hurt, and everyone was kinda nice to me.  And he and I started working together... and were well suited..."

"Yeah, because you're both pragmatic stubborn arses."  Sigrun chuckled at Risa's shocked look.  "And when you were courting -- and you were, you two arses just didn't realize it at the time -- you were on best behavior.

"Now you've relaxed, the both of you.  And neither of you is one to back down, or to bite your tongue when you're sure you're right."  Sigrun patted her hand.

"He wants to baby me."

"Yeah?  so you think that means he _hates_ you?"  Sigrun pulled Risa to her feet.  "Don't judge him by Gorim or Alistair, boss.  Go talk to him. Sure as I'm standing here, he doesn't hate you."

 


	92. Battlefields

The next few days were extremely quiet at the Keep – the kind of quiet that left everyone on edge. All of the wardens were aware that Loghain and Risa had had an argument – Anders and Sigrun in particular had head the two shouting at each other as their rooms were the ones closest to the Arl and Arlessa's suite. They'd also heard the slammed doors, and noted that Loghain had taken himself off to the barracks for the night.

Risa had had her lunch with the nobles a few days later, and Loghain had taken his lunch in their sitting room. He found no reason to socialize with any of the jackals, as he called them, although he _had_ managed to pass the doorway to the Great Hall, where the luncheon was being held, no less than four times. Pages Alaina and Micah had stood behind the Arlessa's chair near the wall, and had seamlessly helped in aiding the servants in pouring tea and passing pastries.

"It's so kind of you to have us here, My Lady," Esmerelle said. "And these pastries… they are _very_ nearly what I remember being served here when the Howes were in residence. Your cook is quite skilled."

"Thank you, Esmerelle," Risa said smoothly. "So pleased you were able to make it."

"Risa, I would not have missed this for the world," Esmerelle returned.

"My dear Arlessa, let me be the first to congratulate you on your recent nuptials," Lady Rossignol purred, smiling sweetly. "You must be so happy – and so proud. The great Loghain Mac Tir – a very desirable match, despite his recent fall from grace." She leaned closer. "You must tell us how you managed to snag him."

Risa chuckled. "Thank you, that's very kind of you. Let us simply say that my husband and I share many of the same opinions."

Lady Rossignol's smile widened. "Forgive me for being forward, Your Ladyship, but… there is a certain glow about you. Am I correct in my assumption that there is an impending blessed event in your future?"

Risa's smile never wavered. "Lady Rossignol, I assure you – if and when the Arl and I have any news we wish to impart to our peers, we certainly shall do so."

"Ah, but it is true that you no longer accompany the Wardens into the field," Esmerelle said, a wolfish smile on her face.

"Do I not have enough to do with running an arling, Bann Esmerelle?"

Lady Rossignol smiled, leaning in. "I am sure we shall hear some exciting news from you very soon, then, Your Ladyship."

There was something very familiar about this Lady Rossignol to Risa, but she could not quite put her finger on it. She tried to recall who the lady reminded her of, or where she had seen her before.

"Well, then," Risa said smoothly, taking Rossignol's hand. "Let me officially welcome you to Amaranthine, Lady Rossignol. I understand that you've settled on what was once the old Stark farm." Risa smiled. "Surely you've seen the improvements that have been made to the roads leading to and from Amaranthine and Denerim beside your property, and the increased patrols to combat darkspawn and bandits."

"I have indeed. I was wondering if such improvements really are quite necessary, however."

"The improvements in the road leading to the bridge I own certainly were," Lady Packton added, ignoring Esmerelle's glare. "In fact, profits are up since merchants have realized that road is safe."

The rest of the luncheon had been similarly stressful - for all it had seemed to be genial on the surface, there was a fierce undercurrent of competition and rivalry beneath, as each of her vassals attempted to wheedle more favors out of Risa. She was polite and careful in putting them off until she could consider each request on its own, and she had to admit that the entire exercise had indeed been exhausting and without much gain in knowledge.

It would be difficult to admit that to her husband – if he were speaking to her yet.

* * *

Risa opened the door from the sitting room to the master suite's private rooms and stopped in surprise.

There were tiny candles floating in scented bowls of water everywhere. Risa looked around, wide-eyed, trying to take it all in. She sniffed deeply and smiled – roses. Flowers – a great surface thing. She waddled further into the room and discovered there were flower petals strewn everywhere.

She noticed that there was a pathway of petals leading into the bathing room, and when she got in there, there was a warm, filled tub.

"Good evening, love."

Risa's eyes widened and she turned to see Loghain standing behind her his crow's feet crinkled. He extended his hand to her and took hers, leading her to the tub.

"Oh," she said softly, reaching her hand into the water gently. The perfect temperature, and she could feel the bath oils soothingly against her skin.

"Let me help you," he said softly, and knelt before her.

Risa blushed as he began to undress her. "Loghain," she said quietly, "I'm as big as a bronto."

"You are not. You're beautiful." He caressed her cheek gently, and helped her into the tub.

Once she was settled, he picked up a washcloth and soaped it thoroughly, then gently began to wash her back. Risa fairly purred with pleasure and closed her eyes as he gently and thoroughly massaged and cleansed her aching back.

After he finished washing her back, he stripped and then slid into the tub behind her to wash her hair. By the time he was done carefully massaging rose-scented shampoo into her scalp and rinsing it thoroughly from her hair, she was entirely relaxed, leaning back against his chest and very nearly asleep. Their argument the night before seemed a dim memory, and each let it go although no spoken apologies were made.

They sat there snuggled together until the water started to cool, and then he helped her out, dried her off and slipped her robe onto her shoulders.

By the time they moved into the sitting room in their dressing gowns, there was a lovely dinner set on the table. Loghain handed her into her seat, pushed her in to the table, and poured her a goblet of watered wine.

Partway through dinner, Risa started to cry.

"Risa." He got up, moved to sit beside her. "Love, what is it?"

"This… this is so lovely," she sniffled. "I thought…"

"What?" He caressed her cheek. "That I no longer find you attractive?"

"I'm as huge as an Ogre," she said, biting her lip.

"Even were that true," he said quietly, stroking her slightly rounded belly, "there is something very powerfully attractive about knowing that it's our child in there." He kissed her lingeringly, stroking her gently.

"You were so _angry_ at me," she murmured.

"For taking foolish risks with your safety, yes." He sat back on his heels, at eye level with her. "Risa. The thought of something happening to you is unthinkable. It has been a long time since I… since I let myself… care for someone." He stroked her hair. "I'm a stubborn ass, Risa, and I've never pretended otherwise. I am not used to having to explain myself: for the past 25 years, I have issued orders and they have been obeyed. I warned you before we married love – I am a cranky, cantankerous old bastard and unlikely to ever change."

"And I'm a cranky, cantankerous young royal and used to giving, not getting, orders." She wiped her eyes. "Ancestors below, are we going to yell at each other all the time?

"Very likely we'll each learn to pick our battles," he said, kissing her forehead.


	93. You Can't Always Get What You Want

Risa paced uncomfortably while Varel filled her in on the state of the arling, and Mistress Woolsey filled her in on the dire state of trade given that the Pilgrim’s Path through the Wending Wood was under nearly constant attack.  She wished, not for the first time, that she dared sit a horse and get out there to see for herself what was going on.  However, even she had to admit that her balance was considerably the worse for wear now that she was in the last third of her pregnancy; she would not risk any sort of mishap now that was at all preventable.  Placing herself anywhere where bandits, darkspawn, or blood mages of any kind congregated was, in a word, stupid – and Risa was not a stupid woman.

But she _could_ still miss battle with all her heart.

Dog was her constant companion now, never further than a pace from her right side.  He’d grown protective as well – Wade had, in typical fashion, raised his voice and wailed about the dearth of really good materials, and had been silenced with a growl and a snap. 

She walked the battlements often, staring out over them as if willing her husband and the Wardens to return.  They were several days overdue, and she was sick with worry.

“All will be well,” Zevrain reassured her for the fifth or sixth time.  “Nathaniel and Loghain both are clever men and skilled – they will be home before you know it.”

“I could, ah, go look and see what’s keepin’ them,” Oghren offered.

“Tempting as that is, old friend… I need you here. If anything were to happen, you and I would have to… to take care of business,” she’d said quietly.

Oghren nodded, and with surprising gentleness, patted her on the shoulder.  “Everything will be all right, Commander.  You’ll see.”

 

* * *

After three days, Micah and Alaina would take turns checking in with Risa rather than both reporting to her as usual.  Her temper had gotten so foul that they deemed it better that one, and not both, of them should be in tears at any one time.

Oghren had stopped drinking completely.  If the worst came to the worst, Risa would need him sober to help her get things sorted.

Zevran Arainai disappeared after day five.   Risa knew that he had gone to the Wending Wood to look for their missing companions despite her telling him several times not to go – that it was too dangerous, that it was only pure luck that he had managed to avoid being tainted – but he went for her sake, and she knew it.

 

* * *

A week later, Micah burst into Risa’s office, and she was on her feet ready to snarl at him about decorum when he burst out, “Wardens approaching!”

Risa pushed past him and started waddling as fast as she could toward the ward.

When she made it down to the yard, she saw the group, tired and limping, coming into the keep.  Risa raced across the yard.  She saw Loghain walking beside an elven woman, supporting her as she limped on a badly mangled leg… when he saw Risa coming he handed the woman off into two guardswoman’s hands.

Risa ran straight for Loghain, and he dropped to one knee just as she reached him.  He swept her into a hug, burying his face in the side of her neck and her hair, and she clung to his neck, pressing as close as she could with her enormous belly.

“Report,” she choked, clinging to him.

Loghain coughed, patting her back.  “That would more properly be Howe’s job,” he said softly.

She looked over to where Howe was helping Anders to sit on the steps to the keep.

She looked back.  “We’ll leave that until later – you’re all exhausted.  Who’s the elvhen woman?”

“A Durgen’len knows our proper name?” the woman said shrilly.  “ _That’s_ a surprise.”

Risa looked up, her face twisting with anger.  “And an elf without manners.  _That’s_ a surprise to me.  I would have thought your Keeper would have trained you better.”

Zevran grasped the woman’s arm as she bolted to her feet and took a few painful steps towards Risa.  “Careful, my deadly nature goddess – attack her at your peril.”

“I’m not letting some fat insolent child of the stone….”

Loghain disengaged himself gently and stood.

Risa walked over to her even as Loghain put an arresting hand on her shoulder.

“Would you care to rephrase that, you rude skin-wearing wench?”

“This,” Loghain said sharply, “is the Warden-Commander and Arlessa, and my lady wife.”

The woman’s jaws shut with a snap, and she stiffened.  “Commander.  I will take the Joining so that I can pursue my sister and gain her escape from…”

Risa’s eyes snapped.  “You what?”

“I will become a Grey Warden and pursue…”

She looked at both Loghain and Nathaniel, her eyes narrowing, then turned back to the elf.  “I don’t believe you’ve introduced yourself?”

“Just give me the Joining so I can track her!” the woman snarled.

Risa nodded thoughtfully, then looked her in the eye.  “No.”  She spun on her heel and tossed orders over her shoulder.  “Give her healing and whatever supplies she might need to get back to her people.”

“What?  But I –“the woman started furiously.

Rise spun.  “You’re a _liability_.  You show _no_ respect for those in whose home you have entered, you _clearly_ have no interest in what it means to be a Warden – to serve ALL people and protect ALL people, _not_ just your own – and you _clearly_ only wish to take the Joining so you can shake the dust of this place off your feet and dash headlong after your sister.  No.  I am sorry for your loss, and if we find anything out about her fate we will inform you, but you will NOT be taking the joining.”

Loghain fell in beside Risa silently, and it wasn’t until she stepped into the hall that she stopped.  “You disagree, my husband?”

“She is a powerful mage, and one who might have been an effective ally,” he said.  “But no.  I do not.  I believe her rage makes her too unstable – and I have no doubt she intended only to use us to get an advantage – the Joining.”  He sighed.  “Nathaniel seemed particularly… taken with her.  And we have much to tell you of the speaking Darkspawn…”

 


	94. Rock Solid Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Risa feels awkward and unattractive. Loghain reassures her, and they discuss the future.

There was no denying now that the Arlessa of Amaranthine was expecting.  At six months, she was _enormously_ pregnant, and her weapons practice, even with bows or thrown daggers, was a thing of the past.  She couldn’t help but notice that she was surreptitiously being observed by most of the people in the Keep – Anders checked in with her daily, of course, as did Loghain. who managed to smooth things over for her without appearing to be patronizing.  But Sigrun and Oghren, Nathaniel – even Varel , Woolsey and Garavel… their eyes followed her constantly.  Even Wade and Herren seemed to find the time to merely chat with her about… things.  Risa found it slightly unsettling, gritted her teeth, and kept on, trying to ignore the concerned looks Sigrun shot after her when she thought Risa was unaware.

The nobles were effusively polite – and insincere – in their congratulations when the announcement was finally made.  There were utterly ridiculous gifts sent – a stuffed bear cub with glittering topaz eyes (an ACTUAL formerly live bear cub, not a cloth one), a striped cat skin blanket she was told was a Soheron beast called a “tiger”, a tiny set of leather armor.  The nicest thing –and most appropriate— was, surprisingly, from Lady Rossingol – a lovely carved ivory rattle.

Risa was amazed that even with her rapidly changing body with its hard, rounded belly and every silvery stretch mark and other flaw she saw in it, Loghain _still_ apparently found her attractive – and found many ways, both verbal and physical, to show it to her.  Here his experience with his first wife’s pregnancy proved to be vital; Risa had been pleasantly surprised to find that physical intimacy was still possible.   There was something very comforting—and relaxing—about Loghain spooning with her and whispering in her ear about how very beautiful she was and how very much he loved her as he gently rocked them both to completion.

She still found it hard to believe, despite the _rock-solid evidence_ , that he still was attracted to her.  _Stone-hewn_ , she thought to herself with a smile.

Much to Loghain’s worry, however, Risa _still_ insisted on climbing up to the battlements to meet the sun at dawn, to watch it fade into a glorious riot of colors at sunset, and whenever during the day or night that she needed time to think.  Dog was never more than a pace away from her now, and Anders had said that as long as she didn’t get lightheaded and took it slow, the exercise would be good for her.  Still, Loghain managed to be free, up and dressed in order to escort her mornings and evenings every day.

If Warden-Constable Howe thought Loghain’s scheduling choices odd, he never said a word.

The Architect was worrying to Nathaniel, Loghain and Risa.  Wanting Warden blood to experiment on “freeing” darkspawn from their unintelligent hive mind was a terrifying idea.  Risa was glad she hadn’t been on that mission – not only out of fear for her unborn child, but also because she was unsure what Avernus’ potion had done to her blood, and what effect that blood would have on the Architect’s subjects.  He seemed to think making the world become a hybridized place where everything became tainted by both darkspawn and Warden’s blood was the ideal – that horrified Risa.  What might he – or even the Wardens, truth be told – make of her child?  Would they all want to take him or her for study?

She knew for **_damned_** sure that she would kill him – or any Warden outside of the Keep – barehanded before they got anywhere _near_ her child.

Risa looked out over the battlements at sunrise.  The last time she had been here with Loghain, she had been uncertain and frightened about her future and feeling utterly alone in the world.  Today she was still uncertain – but the fears were not about being pregnant but being able to carry her child to term and protect it.

She turned and looked up at Loghain as he stood silently behind her, his hands on her shoulders, massaging them gently.  Ancestors, that felt good – especially since her back was often in agony from the extra weight and awkwardness of her posture.

“What should we name our child?” she asked quietly.

Loghain looked at her, and his crows feet deepened with pleasure.  “You’re feeling confident enough now to believe we need names.”

She nodded.  “Yes.”  She covered one of his hands with hers, and squeezed it gently.  “I would like to hear your thoughts on it.”

“What would you name our child if you could?” he deflected gently.

Risa met his icy gaze, shaking her head slightly.  “What was your father’s name?”

She saw a flash of surprise in his eyes – and something else.  She was uncertain as to what it was, until he swallowed hard.

“Gareth,” he said quietly.

“So.”  She turned the name over and over in her mind.  “Gareth Endrin Mac Tir?”

Loghain smiled.  “Named for both our fathers.”

“And for a girl?” Risa asked.

He caressed her cheek.  “I’m partial to Risa.”

She smiled.  “I thank you, but… I’d feel odd hearing my own name – or calling it.”

“Leona, then”

She smiled.  “A fierce name, for a fierce girl.”

“If she is anything like her mother, she will be _ferocious_.”

Risa laughed.  “And her father will have _nothing_ to do with this ferocity?”

He leaned over and kissed her.  “He will, especially if there are Orlesians involved.”


	95. New Beginnings

One night during her seventh month, Risa ‘s eyes snapped open and her sharp intake of breath was enough to wake Loghain beside her. She lay absolutely still, wondering what had awakened her, when her eyes widened and she gasped again.  
Loghain snuggled close to her, nuzzling her between the shoulder and neck, as he splayed his hand across her swollen belly. He smiled, kissing her cheek.

She looked at him, tired and resigned. “What was that?” she asked rhetorically.

“That,” Loghain said quietly, rubbing her belly gently, “was Leona or Gareth kicking and making his or her presence known.” He chuckled as once again, he felt something thump against his hand.

Risa turned toward him. “I miss the days when it was just the occasional flutter. Now? So strong.”

He snorted. “Not surprised. Neither of us is wont to be quiet and retiring, are we?” He brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Maker, Anora was a very active babe. There were nights Celia hardly slept.”

“Thanks for that encouraging glimpse of things to come,” she murmured. She smiled, her eyes welling up. “So everything is really and truly all right?”

“Everything is really and truly all right.”

“Talk to me, love. It seems to sooth him… and it certainly does me, as well.”

Loghain reached for the bedside table, sitting up and opening the well-worn book of poetry to a page at random. Risa sat up and snuggled again his side, letting him enfold her in his right arm as he read quietly, his voice a low and soothing rumble.

Risa’s eyes had finally slid shut when the littlest Mac Tir kicked again and connected with her bladder. She rolled out of bed, and Loghain got up to help her down the hall to the garderobe.

* * *

 

 

Zevran Arainai hardly stirred when the door to his room at the safe house opened and shut quietly, except to pour a second snifter of brandy. He turned as the cloaked figure came into the room and pushed the hood back off her face.

“Lady Rossignol,” he said with a smile, handing her a snifter. “What news, my friend?”

“Ugh,” she said, her voice taking on a decidedly more musical lilt. “The sooner we are done with this charade, Zev, the better. I feel I am perpetually in need of a bath.”

The Antivan elf laughed lightly. “As always, my lady, I stand ready and eager to assist.” He clinked the rim of his glass into hers. “Cin cin!”

 

* * *

 

Risa finally had to admit that the battlements could no longer be her twice (or more) daily trip. Dog would never leave her side, letting his mistress lean on him, her fingers gripping into the loose skin around his neck. But by the time she had waddled up the steps with him on one side and Loghain a pace behind, she was winded and wheezing far too much to get any joy or peace from it.

Their newest warden, entering his second month here and finally starting to lose the haunted look about him, was Jowan – a former apprentice of the Circle, and previously a hunted maleficar. Risa had spared him and forced him to run for his life rather than face the ‘justice’ the Guerrins were likely to demand after his part in the disaster at Redcliffe (how could they possibly make any sort of fair and unbiased ruling when the wrong was against their family, by the Ancestor’s hairy arses?!); he had somehow washed up at the Keep and begged for shelter years later. Blood mage he might be, but Risa recognized a deeply repentant – and frightened – man in him who wanted to and could be SO much more.

When Loghain and Jowan had come face to face, the neurotic blood mage hadn’t reacted beyond a polite nod of the head. Jowan’s comment as he took the cup from Risa’a hand was a humorless chuckle. “More blood magic? Fitting, I suppose.”

Anders had frowned at that, looking very troubled.

And so Jowan took and survived the Joining. The Chantry was furious when they discovered he was a Grey Warden and no longer under their jurisdiction; Risa took the rather blunt view that they could cram their disapproval someplace rather rude. Jowan had become a valuable member of their team; he avoided blood magic but had learned a few rather nasty elemental spells in his years on the run, making the nervous, neurotic mage rather a ferocious battle mage with some talent for healing.

Jowan’s addition to the team allowed Anders to stay more often at Vigil’s Keep; the spirit healer was worried about Risa’s health. Despite her jokes and her easy assurances to Loghain about being too stubborn to have anything go wrong, Anders knew that Risa was stressed and worried. First time mothers were generally nervous anyway; having to put on a façade of unconcern on top of the rest of her worries about the arling were starting to wear heavily on her.


	96. Blindsided

Risa heard the grumbling and murmuring outside, and frowning, stepped out of her suite of rooms only to nearly have Oghren run her down in his warden armor. He'd spun around her in an awkward sidestep, steadying her elbow until she caught her balance.

"What is it?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Big buncha dusters outside – it ain't pretty." He opened his mouth to continue, then snapped it shut with a grimace, considering his next words carefully. "Commander, please… don't go out there." His blue eyes pleaded with her. "It ain't safe."

Risa nodded. "Let me get my chain armor."

"Risa…."

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Arlessas need to rule, do they not?"

He nodded grimly. "They also need to delegate to the arl once in a while," he said, but he made no move to leave without her.

Risa ran back inside and tugged the blue and silver chain tunic over her clothes. She yanked on the padded jacket, and fastened the chest piece, then hurried after Oghren.

* * *

Loghain was standing on the steps to the keep, in his full Chevalier armor, looking impassively at the mob of angry and frightened freeholders standing in the bailey. Nathaniel was standing to his right and above him… Anders to the left. "Steady, " he murmured to the two wardens. "This situation could ignite at any second."

Clearing his throat, he spoke, his voice ringing out across the bailey. "Why do you come to our gates armed, and in force?"

There was a general rise in volume as the crowd shouted, and the archers on the battlements tensed. Nathaniel glanced up and shook his head minutely… and bowstrings eased.

There was a general gasp and hush, and Loghain felt an acid knot form in his stomach. _Of course. What could be better?_ But he had spent many years being the General of the army of Ferelden, and did not so much as glance over his shoulder.

* * *

Risa came to the steps, huffing with strain as Oghren escorted her, and the mob fell quiet as she managed her way down to the bottom of the steps. Standing there, alone, with Loghain, Anders and Howe above her, she looked tiny and frail. There was no mistaking with her careful waddle and the bulging waistline – she was heavy with child and looked as if she would give birth at any time.

"Good people…" she started, and the angry babble became quiet muttering. "Good people of Amaranthine, what brings you here today? If you have grievances, surely there must be some gentler way to bring them to our attention than this?" She looked around at faces that were looking at her – eight months gone, sweating, and standing before them with a look of exhausted puzzlement on her face.

"My Lady," said one of the freeholders uncomfortably, "mayhap you'd best go inside…"

Risa shook her head. "This must be urgent and so I must hear you…" She took a step forward, and Loghain tensed as she touched the man's elbow, looking up at him gravely. "What is your name, serrah?"

"Alan, My Lady." He looked intensely embarrassed now. "Are you sure…."

"What did you want to tell me?"

* * *

Oghren watched in shock, seeing Risa's training in Orzammar as a royal coming into full play. She'd never gotten the chance to stand before the Assembly to plead her case.

Had she done so, she might well have never been exiled.

She stood before them, projecting vulnerability and an earnest desire to know what was angering and frightening them. And it was calming the crowd, shaming them – to think they had dragged the Arlessa from her confinement to listen to their grievances!

"People are going hungry, my lady," he said quietly.

Risa nodded. "The Blight has put a strain on us all. The rich farmlands to the south have been destroyed, and food… yes. It's difficult." She looked out at the crowd. "But we've lent more workers to Lord Eddlebreck and his men. They can't force nature to make the crops grow any faster. We'll do what we can: give Wade and Herren, by the forge, a list of families who don't have able-bodied folk at home – those with young children or elders. We'll see they have enough to eat. I swear this as your arlessa."

"How?" someone from the crowd yelled.

"By opening up the arling's granary," Risa said immediately. "And begging and borrowing enough to ship more from across the Waking Sea, if necessary."

The murmurs died down quite a bit.

Risa took another step forward, her hand pressed to her back. "What else is of concern to you, citizens?"

"Arlessa…" Anders said warningly, taking a step after her.

"The darkspawn… they press nearer our farms every day," a woman called out.

Risa nodded. "I know. And to that end, the Arl and Captain Garavel have been training up more militia and guards, to protect them. Have you not seen more patrols?" She took another step, winced, and pressed her hand to her side. "The Wardens go on regular patrols as well. We do all we can…"

And mid-sentence, her eyes widened and a soft, sharp huff of pain escaped her lips.

Alan shoved forward, even as Anders bolted from his place and guards tensed. The freeholder caught Risa by the shoulder, steadying her. "By the Maker, can you not see the Arlessa is in distress?" he cried, kneeling swiftly and looking at his fellows.

Anders reached Risa and swept her into his arms. "My thanks," he murmured to the freeholder.

"Please," Nathaniel was saying, "We will hear you… and that which the Arlessa has promised will be done, but she is not well…."

"Garavel," Loghain said gruffly. "You and the private – write down all the grievances the freeholders came to tell us of. We must get the Arlessa out of this sun."

"Yes, Your Lordship," Garavel said. "Private!"

* * *

Anders climbed the stairs into the Keep as quickly and smoothly as he could – but Risa was heavy to begin with, and chain mail did not improve that.

"Down," she said gruffly, "put me down."

"Risa…"

"Put me down, shatter it!" she snapped, and Anders rushed to set her on her feet once they were at the top of the stairs and out of sight.

Risa started waddling towards the doors of the Great Hall with great deliberation.

Anders' eyes widened. "You…."

"Got them to calm down and leave without bloodshed," she answered, just as Loghain came up the steps two at a time.

"But…."

Risa shrugged. "On one score, at least, Morrigan was right – men are willing to believe women are weak and in need of…"

As Risa, Loghain, Anders, Nathaniel and Ogren entered the Great Hall, they saw Varel sprawled before the dais, a crossbow bolt in his side and blood on the carpeting. Risa took a sharp breath and cried, "Varel!"

Out of the shadows came Bann Esmerelle in full armor, with a crossbow, with Sir Timothy, Lady Morag, Temmerly the Ox released from the dungeon, and Lady Rossignol behind her, all armed to the teeth. Esmerelle stepped forward, leveling the crossbow directly at Risa.

"Well, well, what have we here? Unarmed Wardens returning to the Keep they usurped…."


	97. Surprises

Varel was sprawled before the dais, his eyes glassy with pain, breathing shallowly and rapidly, his hand pressed around a crossbow bolt in his side and blood on the carpeting.  Risa, Oghren, Loghain, Anders and Nathaniel had just come into the Great Hall to see the seneschal wounded and down.

Out of the shadows came Bann Esmerelle in full armor with a crossbow, flanked by Sir Timothy, Lady Morag, Temerly the Ox released from the dungeon, and Lady Rossignol behind her, all armed to the teeth.  Esmerelle stepped forward, leveling the crossbow directly at Risa.

“Well, well, what have we here?  Unarmed Wardens returning to the Keep they usurped….”

“Varel!”  Risa’s instinctive response was to take a step forward and towards him.  She found herself suddenly jerked back and shoved behind a wall of massive plate armor and furious husband.

“You _dare_?” Loghain sneered.  “You… forsworn… a mere Bann and minor nobles… dare to stand here with naked steel and drawn crossbows….”

“Ah, the _mighty_ Loghain,” Esmerelle hissed, aiming at his breastplate since Risa was effectively blocked.  “How you _have_ fallen… from Teyrn and Hero, General of the Armies – to Grey Warden and… bedmate to a filthy dwarf….”

“Have a care,” Loghain said, deceptively gently, unlimbering his shield.

Oghren stepped out to the side, forcing Sir Timothy to move to cover him.  “I bathe!” he growled.  “Well…. Most days.”

“Ah, _and_ drunken wit.”  Esmerelle’s sharp eyes fastened on Nathaniel.  “And you…. How disappointed your father would be in how _you_ turned out…”

“Given he started a civil war, slaughtered the Couslands for their Teyrnir, and imprisoned and tried to kill the queen, I can’t say I care much.” Nathaniel said calmly.

“Enough with the pleasantries!” Morag snarled.  “Kill the bitch and her filthy half-blood spawn…”   She raised a hand to fling a dagger, just as Esmerelle pulled back the trigger and sent Loghain to his knees, a bolt jammed into his shoulder from when he’d twisted to avoid it punching through his breastplate.

Anders shouted, and even without his staff to focus, a wall of snow and wind whipped at the intruders, making it hard to see.

Everyone scattered.

There was a clang, and Risa gasped to see Oghren staggering, a black fletched arrow jammed in the edge of his pauldron.

“Assassins!” she yelped, trying to drag him to the side even as she watched Nathaniel running into the swirling snow.

She heard Loghain bellow his war cry, and Sir Temmerley landed flat on his back right before Oghren and her.  She punched the shocked warrior square in the face, as hard as she could, and was rewarded with a sharp crack and a gush of blood from his nose.   With a scream of rage, Oghren brought his interlaced fists down on the stunned man’s larynx – and Temmerley died with a strangled gurgle. 

Risa  grabbed Temmerley’s sword and jumped back just in time for an elven archer to drop from the rafters almost at her feet – with his throat slit.

The sounds of fighting were growing weaker, and Risa heard more than saw the impact as Loghain’s foor slipped on some ice, and down he went.  Risa cried out in alarm and lunged to cover him when Bann Esmerelle stepped out of the swirling snow, the crossbow held at the ready.

Risa could see it was at full cock, and aimed directly at her.

“You bitch… you’ve ruined everything.  We had a good thing going till you got here.”  Esmerelle’s nasty smile grew nastier.  “But now, with your _tragic_ deaths at the hands of the Crows, things will go back to the way _we_ ran them.”  She leered. “We both know chain mail won’t stop this,” she snarled, and dropped her aim from Risa’s chest to her belly.

Risa’s eyes widened, and Loghain grabbed her, yanking her flat and rolling to try to cover her…

And an arrow burst through Esmerelle’s leather armor and right into her chest.

“Oh _do_ shut up, Esmerelle dear… you always _did_ talk too much.”

The bann staggered, her eyes wide, and the front of the crossbow dropped.  There was a thwack-zinnng and the bolt slammed into Risa’s calf, and the dwarva shrieked.

Lady Rossingol calmly nocked a second arrow, and when Esmerelle tried to draw her dagger, put another arrow into her.  As the bann fell, the brunette archer approached the fallen arl and arlessa.

An arrow slammed into the ground between Rossingol’s feet, and Nathaniel Howe stepped out of the shadows, his longbow at full draw.  “One more step and you die.”

“Hold, HOLD my dark-haired broody friend!”  And there was Zevran, dropping from the rafters cat-quick and silent, to step between Howe and Rossingol.  “Surely you would not slay allies as well as foes?”

“Zevran?”  Nathaniel stepped back, still trying to keep the strange archer covered.  “What’s going on?”

“It’s Leliana,” Loghain grunted.  “Anders, over here!”

Nathaniel lowered his bow.  “Leliana?”

“Indeed.”  The musical, Orlesian lilt to her voice became more pronounced as she slid her bow into place on her back.   “Zevran approached me directly after the attempt in Denerim, and asked….”

“Could we perhaps have the explanations _afterward_?” Loghain growled.

Anders reached Loghain and Risa just as Loghain rolled back from the awkward position he’d taken, hunching over his wife without leaning directly on her.   Risa lay beside him, panting, the sword still clutched in her hand, her brow dotted with sweat.

Anders looked at the bolt.  “You’re lucky – it missed any major veins and arteries…”  With a shove he pushed it far enough out that he could snap the head off and draw the bolt.   Blue light flowed from his fingers and over Risa’s leg.   It wasn’t more than a few minutes more before it started healing.

Risa spat something utterly unrepeatable in polite company.  “That HURT,  Ancestors take it!” she grimaced.  Then she turned, her eyes filled with concern for Loghain.  “Your shoulder – how bad is it?”

“I’ve had worse, wife,” he said gruffly, stroking the side of her face.

Morag and Sir Timothy both lay at Oghren’s feet, bleeding but alive as the guard rushed in to grab them.

Nathaniel and Leliana managed to get Loghain’s cuirass open, and Risa could see for herself that the bolt had barely penetrated his shoulder.

“I fear you’ll have to put up with another scar, my dear,” Loghain grimaced, yanking the bolt free.

“Like the first thirty or so were off-putting,” Risa snorted, taking his hand, and then her eyes widened.

“Love?”

 “That felt… weird,” she said, sounding a little confused, and then she yelped, her fingers clenching around his as she doubled over.

Anders glanced at Loghain before examining Risa quickly.

“Anders…?” Risa asked.

He didn’t answer – just looked at Loghain and nodded.

Loghain got to one knee, then reached down and scooped Risa up easily.  He had just gained his feet when she cried out in pained surprise.  “Loghain… if this is what I… but I’m early!”

“Early or not,” Anders said, trailing along in the Mac Tirs’ wake, “this babe is coming _now_.”

               

 

 

 

 


	98. Small Wonder

Loghain brought Risa to their suite and laid her on the bed, and helped her to get the chain mail tunic off even as Sigrun came in on the run. 

“Varel,” Risa said urgently.  “Where’s _Varel_?”

“Anders is with him.  Nate pulled the bolt, and Anders is healing him.  Said he’d be here in a minute.”  Sigrun said, removing Risa’s soft house shoes and starting to shimmy her breeches down.

Once Loghain had gotten Risa situated and saw that Sigrun was taking charge, he began to turn to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” Risa asked softly but urgently, and the question turned into a low moan of pain.

Loghain stopped, turned.  “Men traditionally aren’t wanted in the birthing room,” he said slowly.

Risa shook her head violently.  “Please.  _Don’t leave me_.”

He could hear so many layers of fear and pain in those words… the fear of abandonment, yes.  The fear of this process itself.  The fear for their child – for herself.  He turned back, frowning.  The truth was he was torn between waiting outside as tradition demanded – and staying with her.

He remembered all too well how Celia had died, trying to birth his child.  Alone.

Part of him wanted to leave, to find Nathaniel or Oghren and get drunk while they waited to hear the news.  That was, after all, the tradition – and it would distract him from the cold feeling coiling in his gut that he could lose Risa right here and now.

And part of him knew that with the taint running through their veins, every moment they shared was precious.  That because of his age, he could feel the Calling at any time.

Anders came in, tipping a small blue bottle’s contents down his throat.  “How are we doing?”

“Dunno how **_you’re_** doing,” Risa said with a grunt, “but **_I_** feel like shit.”  She gave Loghain a questioning look as a contraction hit, and hit hard, doubling her over.  “Please, Loghain…,” she whimpered.

“Decide,” Anders growled, as he and Sigrun fairly tore off her leggings and smalls, leaving Risa only in her linen tunic.

Loghain nodded at the healer, then looked Risa in the eyes.  “I won’t leave you,” he said quietly, taking her hand.  And it felt right.  He would be with her through this.  And if, Maker forbid, today she breathed her last, at least it would be with him at her side.

“Here.”  Anders slid an arm behind Risa’s back, and helped her sit up. 

Loghain slid in behind her, his legs on either side of her hips.  For a moment it reminded him of their baths together, and Risa leaned back against his chest, trying to relax and breathe evenly.

 

* * *

 

It had been hours since he’d come to support her, physically and emotionally, in their suite of rooms.  Sometimes they sat like that, Loghain acting as a backrest, mostly, and there were times when Risa had very nearly drifted off from exhaustion.  There were times where she got up restlessly and paced, and he walked with her, holding her hand and supporting her. 

There wasn’t much to say – this was an experience he never could have except vicariously.  She didn’t seem to want much conversation anyway as she puffed and moaned when a contraction took hold of her.

Risa had returned to bed, and Loghain with her now, as the contractions came stronger and more often.

Loghain simply held her as her body was wracked by the contractions, wincing as she grunted and squeezed his hands.

Anders nodded, and said quietly, “You’re crowning…”

Risa panted.  “What… what does that mean?”

“It means you’re almost there,” Loghain said, stroking her head.

Anders nodded, his hand spread over her tight belly.  “On the next contraction, I want you to push…”

Risa’s whole body tensed like a bowstring, and she pushed back against Loghain.  And screamed.

 

* * *

 

And then, less than an hour later, it was over.

Risa was panting and had fallen back, limply, into Loghain’s arms even as he leaned down to kiss her sweaty forehead.  She looked up at him, her eyes pleading with him to tell her the news….

And there was a loud, indignant cry, and Anders paced on her chest a small, furiously howling infant with fuzzy black hair wrapped in a warmed towel.  Risa’s eyes widened, and she extended one finger to trace the red, squalling face.

“Congratulations,” Anders said with a smile, even as Loghain stroked her soothingly.  “So… what is his name?”

Risa laughed, gently hugging the infant and looking up into Loghain’s eyes.  “Gareth,” she said softly.  “Gareth Endrin.”


	99. We

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loghain's thoughts on his new family.

_We’d moved into the study, temporarily, as the chambermaids cleared the mess we’d made of our bed during the delivery.  Risa is curled up in one of the wing chairs before the fire, wrapped in a blanket and shivering.  We both know it’s partly blood loss and reaction to the pain she has dealt with the last few hours, and partly because next to Orzammar, Ferelden is just bloody cold._

_Gareth is in her arms, and she is feeding him, utterly unconcerned about who might see her as they walk through with linens and a new tick for the bed.  He’s got to eat, and damn any delicate sensibilities, she said.  The look on her face is wonder, tenderness and ferocity as he suckles from her._

_He is so small – I stand beside her and gently smooth his hair.  No question whose child this is – his hair is black as sin.  His eyes, when they crack open, are a fierce blue, but that will probably change, given his mother’s obsidian eyes.  I wonder idly if this is how I looked as a babe._

_“He’s perfect,” she says in a small, awed voice, and I have to agree.  Perfect is one word.  Miracle, another. Ours, and beautiful, and precious -- all manner of other words come to mind.  Including half-blooded, and haunted.  Of royal blood.  Perhaps orphaned. Protected._

_He grips my index finger fiercely as he feeds._

_Anders has assured us that he is perfectly healthy, even if a few weeks early._

_I look at him and wonder how he is possible… how I could possibly deserve such happiness?  I have caused such misery – the selling of elves into slavery to fund the war, sending assassins after Risa and Maric’s…. and Alistair.  Allying with Howe.  Poisoning Eamon, and setting a maleficar on his family.  And yet we have been rewarded with a near impossible child.   Dread coils low in my gut.  Risa believes my being a Warden is atonement enough.  I’m not so sure._

_I wondered once if Risa would regret allowing me in her bed… I wonder now if she will regret instead when I must surely end up paying for my crimes, and my age at Joining.  That seems more likely than not these days._

_I am glad I was beside her to see Gareth born. Glad he was born, and that neither of them were lost.  I had worried.  She is tough and tenacious, yes.  But she is also so petite…. I worried our child would have a difficult birth.  Perhaps it is a blessing that Gareth came into the world just a tad early._

_I lean close to her, to kiss her.  Gareth lets go of the finger to grab for my nose.  Can’t say I blame him for that.  I wouldn’t want my nose anywhere near me either._

_One of the chambermaids dips a curtsey at the door, her arms full.  “All done, M’lord, M’lady.”  She hesitates a moment, then quickly congratulates us as she hurries off._

_Gareth’s done feeding, and as Risa pulls herself back together, I put my hands out for him.  She hands him to me, curious, as I hold him, his tiny chest and stomach in one hand, his head supported by my index and middle fingers.  I rub and pat him on the back, until he produces an impressive burp._

_I’ve done this once or twice before.  And I realize with regret that that is accurate.  Anora I left to her mother and nurse._

_Not this time.  Not if I can help it._

_I tuck him into the crook of my elbow, tight against my ribs, and help Risa up.  She’s sore, and she’s tired, and she will be for weeks.  I know she will bleed… a lot.  Anders and Sigrun have helped  her with respect to that; all I can do is help to make her comfortable.  And be with her._

_Howe’s running the show now, as Risa intended.   All we need do is be a family, for now – as unfamiliar as that seems._

_I help her back into bed, and put Gareth into her arms.  Then I sit beside her, my arm around her shoulders, my family close beside me.  I’m not sure when it is we fall asleep, but when I wake, we are all three still together, Risa’s head tucked under my chin, Gareth’s under hers with his fingers locked 'round mine._


	100. The First Bastard

“Dada!  Dada _up_!”

Gareth toddled unsteadily across the nursery, falling just a few steps from his objective.  Fetching up against his father’s legs he grabbed the edge of Loghain’s left poleyn to pull himself up.  Delilah Cooper watched quietly from a few feet away, her son Nate seated on her lap.

Loghain stooped automatically to sweep the boy up into his arms.  “And what have you been up to today, little man?”

Gareth grabbed Loghain’s nose and laughed.  “Nose!”

“Yes,” Loghain agreed gravely.  “Nose.  A big one.”  He touched Gareth’s nose gently as well.  “Nose.”

The boy laughed. “Lit’le nose!”

“Yes, you and your mother both are lucky in that regard.”  Loghain smiled at the boy, then pointed to his own eye.  “What’s this?”

“Eye!”  Gareth pointed to his own eye – a perfect match for his father’s steely color.  At two, they showed no signs of changing yet.  Perhaps they’d stay.

“Eye indeed.  And this?”  His index finger touched his lower lip.

“Mouf!” Gareth crowed, and leaned forward to kiss his father, who hugged him close.

“Indeed.  People use them for different things.  For instance: Anders’ is hardly ever shut, and Howe’s is hardly ever open.”  He tickled the boy, who giggled and clung tightly to him.

The toddler didn’t seem much different from purely human ones, to Loghain’s eyes.  Sure, his legs were a little shorter and his walk slightly more bow-legged, but there didn’t seem much difference between him and little Nate.  His shoulders were a bit broader – “Like his father’s,” Risa often said, stroking them before they went to sleep.

There were a few more strands of grey in Loghain’s hair these days – and in Risa’s, truth to tell.  The past two years had been both difficult and joyful.  Howe had been very diligent in never placing Loghain and Risa on the same mission – as difficult as they found it not to have their partner and right hand beside them, they knew what drove it.  Howe did not want little Gareth losing both parents at once.  And with the job they did, it was all too possible.

And so it was Loghain’s turn to brood in Vigil’s Keep, entertaining his son when he was able to get away from training recruits, answering letters, and all the other nonsense an Arl had to do. 

Nathaniel himself came to the nursery, and smiling, greeted both his sister and nephew.

“Fan’l.” Gareth said, reaching for the Warden-Constable imperiously.  The boy made a grab.  “NOSE.”

“How could you miss it?”  Howe chuckled, then, turning to Loghain, he sobered a bit.  “Risa and  the others should be back in a few hours.  I’d like you two to join me for dinner in my office.”

Loghain went very still, gently fending off Gareth’s grabs for his nose.  He nodded.  “Better come to our study,” he said quietly.  “There’s more room there.  Might I take Gareth for a ride as we wait?”

Howe nodded.  “I think that would be a splendid idea.”

“RAVEL!” Gareth crowed.

“Yes, let’s go down and see Traveller,” Loghain said, heading first for their rooms to switch from plate to leather.

* * *

 

 

“No.”  Risa shook her head adamantly.  “Absolutely not.  _No_.”

Loghain and Nathaniel looked at each other grimly.

“I said, NO!”  Risa grabbed the letter out of Loghain’s hand, and got up from the table, tossing her napkin onto her seat as she stormed over to the fireplace.  She flipped the parchment into the flames, and came back to the table.

“Risa.”

“Caridin’s stony balls, NO, and that’s an end to it,” Risa raged.  “You said it yourself – they gave us SHIT when we needed them!  No help, no funds, no resources!!!  We sent _them_ Archdemonic blood and bone and leather, because as our brothers they need them but they do NOT need this!” She slammed her fist onto the table, making the tableware jump. 

“They have a fucking nerve!  They worry that _you_ will have undue influence on the Crown?  _Undue influence?_   We’ve stayed the FADE out of Denerim, and _out_ of Ferelden politics – whereas it’s no secret the First Fucking Warden closely advises the Anders’ king – _and wants the throne for himself_.  I WON’T HAVE IT, SHARDS TAKE IT!”

Nathaniel wiped his mouth and got up from the table.  “Excuse me,” he said quietly, “I see you have much to discuss.”  He gave Risa a polite nod, and left.

Loghain got up and stood behind Risa’s chair, his hands steady as he placed them on her shoulders.  “Risa.”

“No!” she said, and now he heard the ragged edge of tears, of desperation in her voice.  “No.  They’ve taken everything _else_ from me, love.  They cannot have _you_.”

He let her go and went to one knee beside her chair, and Risa launched herself into his arms, hugging him tightly around the neck.

Slowly, he closed his eyes, his chin dropping onto her shoulder, his arms around her as she began to break down.

“That _bastard_ ,” she sobbed stormily.  “That utter bastard…. _Montsimmard_ … he’s sending you to a _death sentence!_ ”

“Hush…” he said soothingly.

“He’s sending you where you’ll be surrounded by enemies… in Orlais!  _Orlesian_ wardens?”  Her voice was bitter.  “They’d as soon knife you in the back – they’re ORLESIANS.”

“There are _orders_ , my love,” he said quietly.  “Would you have me disobey them?  Be insubordinate?”

“ _Yes_ , shatter it!”  She looked up at him, eyes red and watery.

“And what of Gareth?” he asked quietly.  “There were already many questions about how you and I managed to survive the killing of the Archdemon.  When Gareth was born, there was… interest.  You _know_ this.”  He wiped the tears from her eyes.  “There _is_ more they can take, and you know it.”

She shuddered, and he knew that she understood the implied threat.  “I can’t let you go alone,” she said softly.

He stroked her hair.  “We always knew we’d be parted someday, my love,” he said softly.  “Whether in battle, or by the Calling.  We’ve been happy – I've been happier than I’ve been in decades, love.  Don’t make this harder on us both.”

He swept her up in his arms as he had nearly three years previously, when he brought her back over the threshold of Vigil’s Keep as his new bride, and he kissed her tenderly as he carried her back into their private rooms.

“I don’t want to think about tomorrow, my own,” he said softly.  “Help me to remember _tonight_.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting on Risa's adventures, especially wtgw and Riptide. 
> 
> Risa's adventures will continue -- after all, she still has to face the Architect.


End file.
